an ancient city,
Of stark poetry,
of hidden delights
and unseen treasures,
a womb in the desert
you may return to
You may see me as
and ramshackle forts,
but in the patient quiet of the night
I am vividly alive,
lighting the sky
with the soft glow of my million hazy stars;
singing my lullabies that are
my willowy melodies
I will lead you down my long romantic winding pathways,
into the hidden crevices of myself,
and there you will glimpse
my illustrious manuscripts,
read my magnificent golden script,
the vastness of my humanity
and my wisdom
and laid bare
inside my city,
inside my story,
Nothing in this world is as amazing as something that is neither clear not unclear.
I was contained
within the hypnotic rhythm of the desert
the way cloudy wine of the Sufi
floats within a clay vessel.
My heart danced
and inside it the Nile was a whisper of majestic hypnotic sound,
a winding river
meandering on a musical journey
through mysterious Time.
Beat of the tar,
shimmering curtains of reverberating strings, thickly woven skeins of melody
that I channeled through my fingers as they plucked oud.
Materializing complex tapestries of ancient sound,
out of thin desert air.
I can tell you
that there was a richness to this life.
It was a richness
like the sheen upon the surface
of a pot of Turkish coffee.
It was the richness of date syrup;
how sweet it was!
It was a quality of light,
like the delicate dawn some mornings
of my childhood,
the sun’s rays spread in gentle waves over the desert, billowing,
like my mother’s skirts
in the breeze.
And behind the whistling play of hot wind I heard within my own Nubian ears a twisting symphony
Between each note,
Music quivering upon the depths of the quiet.
My gentle song was always soft whispers,
of what lay beyond
Like the fragrance of jasmine,
so subtle, yet so sweetly aromatic.
Reach beyond the bounds of yourself, the thin curtain, into the depths…
and there you will find me, your own ancestor,
archivist of the human heart,
a greater library than ever thrived in Alexandria,
where the spark of knowledge
emerges out of the void
and sacredness lives beyond simple light
mad for God,
crazy for journeying
through the world
singing my inner song
to the wind and the dirt grooves of the road,
to the stubbly grass and ancient watching trees,
to the blossoming flowers that grow
along the way.
A wild string of
from the depths.
please return to me.
I am seeking the
of my very own
So I will walk the path that knows no bounds.
I will keep playing my ektara,
plucking the strings,
pouring out my soul
in one ephemeral moment
of delicious touch.
I will wander like a minstrel
through the faraway lands
of my own consciousness.
she has learned what she wanted to know,
but only she understands.