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