Ren

The Egyptians believed in a true name,
the sum of all your parts.
They protected their names in oval cartouches,
and held them close to their hearts.
To speak your name was to remember you,
to remember you was to keep you alive.
To lose your name was to lose yourself,
to drive the sun out of the sky.

Nowadays, no one keeps their true name
as secret as they should.
We scribble it on billboards, scream it from rooftops,
and shout it at strangers on the street:
“My name is lonely,
my sign is boredom,
my favorite color is your broken heart.
Would you like to
love me now?”
You see, when everybody knows you,
no one really does.