"Egyptian Water Carrier," Jean-Leon Gerome, circa 1882, Wikiart photo.
“Egyptian Water Carrier,” Jean-Leon Gerome, circa 1882, Wikiart photo.

Part 1: Moon Mystic

Lure of desert night, pale moonlight, rippling
Sand, young Erenay left family-camped oasis,
Voice of ancient prophet beckoned, “Follow me.”
By two words, she understood, fear not desert
Solitude, crucible and guardian, provider and
Teacher, Erenay took to trackless dunes, veiled
Face sun-protected, stars and planets guide-
Watching, to oasis of mind she reached, divine
Fountain welling within, self-realization, Moon
Mystic her destiny.

Fated desert winds, Erenay as spindled wool,
Tapestry threads, her mind aflame with verse,
Prophet given, she longed for pen and papyri,
By heart she memorized his words. Lo, her
Life deific magic spell, subsisting on charity
Of others, from well to well, figs and dates,
Lives of strangers touched, offering more in
Holiness more than received, for hardships she
Provided relief of pain and sickness, virtues of
Prayer, for prophet’s light was amongst them.

Dark-robed Erenay, across burning sands she
Strove, serving divine voice at shepherds flocks,
Villages, sun-burnished splendor of her eyes,
Mercy for beaten and condemned, their wounds
And souls cleansed, earthly shackles broken.
By her tears, sunlight shown in darkest hearts
And places, whip lost to creator’s wisdom,
Winged verses of forgiveness, Erenay prophet’s
Vessel. Her knowing words persecutors could
Not oppose, confessions at her sandaled feet.

"Gate of Shehal Morocco," Edwin Lord Weeks, 1800, WikiArt photo.
“Gate of Shehal Morocco,” Edwin Lord Weeks, 1800, WikiArt.

Known by many names, Erenay Moon Mystic,
Healer, teacher, often desert disappearing for
Weeks, solitude of sun-rising morning prayers,
Then oasis appearing. By each roaming revela-
Tion, secret fires burned, more of herself she
Gave, boundless love, desert wandering maiden
Prophetess became, fleshed bone made divine,
Shaped by sun and scorching sands. To what
God she prayed, she replied, “He who guides
My path, footsteps I humbly follow.”

Verses with me most of the day coalescing into poetry. Written
whilst listening to “Burning the Past” by Harry Gregson-Williams,
from “Kingdom of Heaven,” original motion-picture soundtrack.


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