Two Eyes Cenote Woma

I am; let it be so!

She is no soothsayer and perhaps she has no need to be. Winds leap across their skins in thick waves. From the man’s pelt are coaxed drops of the cenote and sent smattering into the earth. Copper nape furs stir in a humble expression of awe. All around she feels the gods write their approval for the man edged in by moonlight.

She blinks vapor and refocuses the amber of her eyes upon his stone-hewed face.

“Tonight, I spoke your name to the evening star, clearly pronouncing each syllable, to witness it disperse into the celestial sphere. Only the night air carries your name for the shezmu of the new gods, and the ka of the old.”

“No longer are you Stark. Rise now as Meseba, He who is Born of the Stars.”

The name is ringing still in her ears as bows her head before Meseba, eternal servant to Egypt.