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Rabat, Walled Mellah
(the Jewish Ghetto)
in a heavy coat
I stand against the chill of mid-March
black umbrella shielding from the persistent drizzle
I make my way on a path of slippery pebble stones
through white mortar walls into the busy bazaar
donkeys amble slowly pulling fruit carts
blake blake make room echoes the alleys
in every corner men in front of tiny charcoal
fires sells roasted corn for pennies
this place I know its history my people
the Jews of Rabat lived in Walled Mellah
for over two-thousand years spoke Aramaic
bolted David’s Shield on every entrance door
my pulsing heart feels the stones fermenting
in silence tailors leather makers carpenters
clung as a community stumbling over fragmented
scrolls haunted by evil eye their tantalizing
scent cuts through the damp air in a rhythmic cry
tonight I will eat a solitary meal couscous
with bare hands as I did as a child gulp hot
mint tea with honey swallow amber of memory
On the Road to Marrakesh
summer the sun in out
most cruel
the sound of the road
grates my ears
loud oriental songs
shouts of conversations
finally
one last stop by the side of the road
take pictures cold cherry drink
twenty minutes nobody late
a dense crowd quickly mills around
scarf necklace for a beautiful lady
follows by endless God Bless You!
from the distance an ache of desert bloom
camouflaged woman in black chador
barefoot shepherding sheep goats
enormous black eyes filled with history
she lifts her veil
points to the child in a bundle of rug on her back
opens palms in a gesture of give and receive
not dollars the sweetness
of pomegranate juice and iced mint tea
Mosaic Hotel, Casablanca
the street below resounds
musicians in gold embroidery
burgundy caftans
bursting in loud accented songs
gold bracelets tickling on hands
heard from down the hall
snatches of talk a mix
of French and Moroccan Arabic
the open balcony invites
pigeons kissing
pecking each other
mating dance
a wool blanket around my shoulders
sipping hot tea with mint
welcoming the dimming day
onto a restful Medina
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