The Pomegranate: A Fruit of Fertility and Abundance

Across the sun-soaked civilisations of the ancient Mediterranean, few fruits captured the imagination quite like the pomegranate. Known to the Ancient Egyptians as “ḥnmt”, with its ruby skin and hidden constellation of seeds, the pomegranate became a living metaphor for fertility, abundance, and eternal renewal. To taste it was to share in nature’s secret of rebirth; a promise enclosed in a fragile shell. In Ancient Egypt, the pomegranate’s arrival from the Near East (likely through the bustling trade routes of Syria and the Levant) transformed it from exotic import to cherished symbol.

By the time of Amenhotep III, whose palace at Malkata bloomed with foreign flowers and fruit trees, the pomegranate had taken root both in Egyptian soil and in the Egyptian soul. Its likeness adorned jewels, perfume flasks, and temple offerings; its presence in art and poetry intertwined with the lotus and the ankh, emblems of life everlasting.

The Secret Language of Flowers in Egyptian Tombs

Egypt was not alone in venerating the fruit. In Canaan and Phoenicia, it crowned the bronze capitals of sacred pillars and graced the hems of priestly robes. The Greeks saw in its blood-red seeds the myth of Persephone and the rhythm of life and death; for the Romans, it was the emblem of Juno, guardian of marriage and fertility. To each culture, it offered the same quiet truth; that within every ending lies the pulse of new life.

The pomegranate was called ḥnmt (transliterated henemet or hnmt).

It appears in hieroglyphic inscriptions written with the following elements:
𓎛𓈖𓌳𓏏
— ḥ + n + m + t, occasionally followed by the determinative for “fruit” or “plant”

“The Fruit That Dreamed of Eternity”
The pomegranate in the life, medicine, and afterlife of Ancient Egypt.

In Ancient Egypt, the pomegranate was as much a delight of the senses as it was a vessel of meaning. Its ruby seeds, gleaming like droplets of sunlight turned to wine, were savoured for their sweet-tart flavour and pressed into a rich, aromatic juice. In the New Kingdom, such nectar was transformed into pomegranate wine (irep hnmt); a luxury mentioned in tomb inventories and offering lists. Amphorae unearthed at Thebes and Amarna still bear traces of this fermented sweetness, a faint memory of feasts held three thousand years ago.

At banquets, the fruit appeared beside grapes, figs, and lotus blooms; delicacies fit for a palace where feasting itself was a sacred act. Wall paintings from the tomb of Nebamun and his peers show baskets brimming with these bright, round fruits, tokens of plenty and of divine favour. In the tomb, they became something more: nourishment for the ka, the eternal spirit, and a promise of rebirth. Whole pomegranates, shrivelled but intact, have been discovered among the funerary goods of Thutmose IV, Amenhotep II, and nobles of the Theban necropolis, gifts of the earth laid before eternity.

Yet the pomegranate’s virtue was not confined to pleasure. In the realm of healing, it was equally esteemed. The Ebers Papyrus (c. 1550 B.C.) records the use of its rind and root bark against intestinal parasites; a treatment now known to be grounded in science, for both contain potent medicinal compounds. Later traditions, inherited by Greek physicians, praised the fruit for soothing fevers, calming the blood, and strengthening the heart. Even its blossoms were gathered, dried, and mixed with honey or wine to create fragrant ointments, making it an ancient harmony of beauty and remedy.

Thus, the pomegranate bridged every sphere of Egyptian life (food, medicine, and devotion) an emblem of vitality that transcended the boundary between worlds. To taste it was to partake of life itself; to offer it was to promise renewal beyond death. Its form appeared in carnelian and gold, its seeds inlaid in faience and glass, its image woven through poetry and prayer.

And so, even now, the pomegranate gleams across time; in tombs, in temples, in museum light… as it once did in the gardens of Malkata. The pomegranate was a fruit of joy, healing, and eternity, still whispering of the sweetness of life beneath the Egyptian sun.

The Pomegranate in Myth and Poetry

“It is sweet to go and gaze at my love,
When he stands by the pomegranate tree.
His lips are sweet as lotus and his eyes like stars.”
Papyrus Harris 500

In both Egypt and Greece, the pomegranate stood at the threshold between life and desire, death and rebirth; a fruit whose hidden seeds seemed to contain the mysteries of the soul itself.

In Egypt, the pomegranate (ḥnmt) blossomed not only in gardens and temples, but in the realm of poetry. The Songs from the Grove (Turin Cat. 1966), c. 1190–1077 B.C., preserves a rare and enchanting glimpse of the fruit in the language of affection and earthly joy. Here, the pomegranate tree speaks in the first person, boasting of its beauty and usefulness:

“I give shade to lovers drunk on wine and must.”

This playful verse transforms the tree into a poetic witness to love’s secrecy, its branches sheltering those overcome by passion. The fig and the sycamore join in, each vying for favour; but it is the pomegranate that takes on the most seductive and intimate role, its scarlet blossoms and clustered seeds evoking both the pleasures of love and the cycles of fertility.

Such verses, written in the Ramesside Period, show how Egyptian literature could blur the lines between divine creation and human emotion. The pomegranate tree becomes a living metaphor for sensuality and renewal; not unlike the goddess Hathor herself, patroness of love, music, and intoxication.