Waking
WAKING
I woke from a dream
to a clear mellow voice floating
through the valley like the sacred
oscillation of a singing prayer bowl,
the reverberating ring of its braided
harmonics as sharp as the blue of a
January sky and round as the full moon
reveling in the presence of sunlight
at night – an irresistible voice, guiding
the listener through snowfall and fog
toward a luminous glow in a mysterious
clearing on a forested hill, where the
song is in Farsi and the woman who sings
wears a caftan of crimson surrounding her
voice in a bright red caress, her head
slightly lifted, the fire of her faith but a
small endless flame, the soft light so
perfect that the only recourse for the
reticent soul is to break down and cry, to
kneel down and pray, and be visited by
Allah in this wonderful way, in this
wonderful place, at this
wonderful time!
Emanuel Carter
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