The Journey
by Mohammed Al-Shahat
translated by Hatem Al-Shamea
The dervish gazed upon the minaret,
Imagining how many angels
Descended upon it.
He felt the echoes of the call to prayer,
And saw a door open,
Angels descending,
And demons hastening their steps to hide.
His eyes filled with a light
Mingling with another light,
Until he felt
His soul brimmed,
Overflowing.
He tried to gather it,
For he would need it
Between two prayers.
The faithful gathered,
And the dervish watched them.
When they greeted each other with peace,
He hurried
To sit down,
Settling himself,
Awaiting their return.
Oh, if only they would accompany him.
He felt the minaret tremble
As wings fluttered,
Covering the sun’s eye
And ascending.
He could not count them.
For years,
He faithfully kept his vigil,
Hoping to join them.
He shooed away human devils
So they wouldn’t corrupt him.
Often, he felt a tightness
As their eyes besieged him
While he watched the mosque’s minaret.
And whispers tore at him, “This madman
Fears the minaret will fall,
So he watches it.”
He never rejoiced as much
As when he felt his soul would depart.
He wished it would ascend after the dawn prayer.
So he greeted,
And hurried.
He carried nothing in his vigil to hinder him.
He felt only the soul’s ascent without a rattle,
And the light he watched enveloped him.
He feared to look towards the body,
Lest it pull him back.
With an unfamiliar voice,
The dervish died,
Watching
The mosque’s minaret,
Fearing it might fall.
In Proof that I Am Not Dead – Yaseen Al-Bukali – trans. Hatem Al-Shamea
