The World Seen From A Perspective Of A Mummy

Ay - Part I

I have not been dead for very long. At this moment I am stretched out on a table naked, face down. I seem to be alone. My hair keeps growing. Also my fingernails, but I can’t tell about my toenails: I can’t see them.

My heart was the last to give up after most of my other organs turned over to expire. Breathing had been difficult during my last week and I sense my lungs did not want to continue. Nor did my liver, weighted down by cirrhosis despite remedies of pomegranate and wormwood. My stomach, however, had still great quantities of half- digested fruits (some nuts as well) within its perimeters and was not quiescent. It is spring and I still contemplate melons and dates just waiting to be consumed. My belly knows this, I am sure. Having trained tongue and teeth to pulverize these morsels to an acceptable pulp to aid its own digestive juices, there was residual frustration in addiction to shock.

But no anger could match what my intestines expressed. Foul mumblings continued long after my eyes closed forever (was this a death rattle?) . It was only later that I perceived that of all my interior organs apparently only my intestines knew intimately what would follow death: dismemberment, mummification, entombment and enlightenment.

Am I getting ahead of myself? I need you to know who I am so that I can live in memory. Maybe even yours.

To be continued . . .



















I Am Followed By The Spirit Of Sustenace
Watercolor on paper - 2006