She glows — with more than light. Some spirit’s lit
a flame behind her face. A guide explains
that rays refract in alabaster then
diffuse through gypsum prisms. I suppose
that might explain the light — but not the fire
inside her eyes. Perhaps that glow remained
when patient, waiting oarsmen called her name
one Middle-kingdom evening, and her ka
left gently, slowly, knowing that they’d see
it safe aboard the soul-boat well before
the ropes splashed and the oars began to stir
the wind between the sails.
Boatmen always wait for souls like hers.