Mysticism in the Desert (of Egypt)

The desert is a space of mystery, meditation, even mysticism...

When I lived in Cairo, Egypt, over a decade and a half ago, I would head to the desert periodically: to empty myself of the city’s noise, overhear myself and then lose myself.

I approached these desert pilgrimages with the earnest intention and passionate belief that I was going to encounter that part of myself not entirely accessible in other circumstances. In the desert, there is nothing to hide behind, nowhere and no one to turn to.

Below is my ode to this Capital of Silent Riches:

Desert Revisited

under a whirling skirt of sky
streaming light and stars
groping for that tremendous hem
gingerly over quicksand

as though steadied
beneath some tongue and dissolving
not the absence of sound
but the presence of silence

or, as if transfixed
by a gaze, stern-serene
surveying a dream
foreign-familiar

incorruptible starting point
inviolable horizon
where eye and mind are free
to meditate perfection

there, begin to uncover
buried in dust and disinterest
the immutable letter
(first of the alphabet) Alif

under the ever watchful eye:
fearsome sun, forgiving moon
bless the magnificent hand
all else is blasphemy, a lie

experience quietude
the maturity of ecstasy
longing to utter
the unutterable Name

only striving supreme or pure
can ever hope to endure
the absolute face
the awesome embrace.

© Yahia Lababidi, author of Learning to Pray