Dogs moan

& the donkey

 

sleeps;

 

the nightingale

has flown,

 

from the four

corners of the

 

city

 

prayer call

echoes.

 

No water

heat on heat

 

the tourist

buses prowl

 

the King’s Highway.

 

Tri coloured

flag, Bedouin

 

& their tea,

 

Hubble bubble

pipe smokes

 

at coffee

corner café.

 

I’m alive

in the Dead Sea

 

salt encrusted

Angels pose

 

dressed in

black mud.

 

Red desert

sand like Mars

 

a vast sea

of nothing:

 

wind carries

jackal’s cry

 

wolf prints

at breakfast

 

round supper

fire strums

 

the whine

of alien

 

music.

 

My body’s here

but my mind

 

is on the road

to Aqaba,

 

lost in a

dust storm

 

where the Jordan

knife -cuts

 

across the Holy Land.

 

Jordan, Palestine,

same blood,

 

ground bone.

 

My body’s here

but my heart rests

 

at Mount Nebo,

 

time stood still

reversed the years

 

Moses & the Israelites,

countless prayers

 

have left impression

in the breeze,

 

sacred, emanation.

 

My body’s here

my spirit  stayed

 

in Petra, where

dead talk in

 

whispers;

 

their carvings

soar,  glow gold

 

at sunset.

 

My body’s here

my soul is in

 

the desert;

 

a ceiling of stars

wind howls in Wadi

 

& the sand smacks

my cheek

 

galloping deep

into nothingness.

 

 

 

 

City of

the dead

 

soaring

 

rose sand:

Bedouin like

 

lost pirates,

kohl lined

 

eyes

 

cries that

split the

 

thin air.

 

I was lost

to myself

 

until I

climbed like

 

mountain goat;

found,

 

eagle spun

on anabatic

 

wind.

 

Yalla, yalla,

young boys

 

beat donkey’s

side,

 

wind whipped:

 

& I

 

endorphin high,

teeter

 

on the edge,

leaning into

 

my own void.

 

 

 

 

Pillars of salt

Sodom & Gomorrah

 

Lot,

seduced by three:

 

under palm

dates gleam

 

succulent in

muddy sun.

 

I sit breathing

salt sea spirit

 

of this

 

Promised Land.

 

Dead Sea

slumbers,

 

a millennium

of salt,

 

divides:

 

two faiths

like

 

cells split;

 

behind the

mountains

 

Jerusalem’s

golden dome

 

hides

 

sacred, blood,

babel tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

The Guide

talks

 

too much,

 

the women

shrouded:

 

it’s a man’s

world

 

cigarette

handshake.

 

The young

men,

 

beautiful

 

like Persian

cats, fat,

 

smooth

skinned

 

powerful.

 

 

My body’s here

but my mind

 

is on the road

from Aqaba

 

lost in desert

land, where the

 

Jordan cuts

a fine line

 

across this

Promised Land:

 

Jordan from

Palestine

 

the same

blood brethren.

 

My body’s here

but my heart

 

is on Mount Nebo

a calm so deep

 

where Moses

sleeps,

 

remembering

his people.

 

Impression

in the breeze

 

of countless

prayer

 

still hovers.

 

My body’s here

but my spirit’s

 

high in Petra

a city where

 

the dead talk

in whispers,

 

5000 years

gone by, & still

 

their carvings

soar in

 

immortality.

 

My body’s

here

 

my soul

is in the desert

 

gazing at

the stars

 

wind eerie

in the Wadi

 

sand scaping

cheek,

 

I gallop

 

deep into

nothing;

 

In my dreams

I wander

 

Dragon Valley

toes deep

 

in sand

century.