Rebecca Martin
In the name of the merciful and compassionate God:
Whirling dervishes perform the
Mevlevi dance in the courtyard
Of the Al-Aqsa Mosque.
White, woolen robes swing out,
Belling about the legs as the three Sufis
Dance. Spinning and swaying,
One flicks his head from
Time to time to stimulate the
Upward flow of blood. Elsewhere, beyond the
Mingle of the Old Quarter, near the Damascus
Gate, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher
Prepares. Guided by human hands,
The Chalice ascends, commending:
Lord, I am not worthy to
Receive you, but only say the word,
And I shall be healed.
The words proceed, quicker, faster.
They spill together as the dancing
Hastens and the fervor builds in the
Courtyard just beyond the Jewish quarter.
I am the God of thy father, the God of
Abraham, and Muhammad is my messenger.
The eternal words,
The first words,
Whispered to an infant ear.
These are the terms of the covenant.
A cylinder-shaped hat detaches;
Fana approaches,
But treads quietly—Allah spoke
Through the mouth of a bodied lover.
Rabia, blessed art thou among women.
Yours, a self lost to the experience,
Pursuing God for God's sake, keeping only
The ecstasy as your own.
Simply love, I tell you;
He hears the motion
As the world fades,
Blurs, moves back
Slowly to the place where
Majesty keeps,
For when the self ebbs away,
Only God remains.
The priest stops; he tastes the
Body and sips the blood.
The fabric deflates and settles,
Tinkling three times in its descent.
The dervish blinks with Allah's
Eyes but cannot stay long in that
Cloistered other realm.
For the kingdom,
The power, and
The glory are Yours,
Now and for ever. Amen.