Mt. Sinai

I want to remember this moment,

the waning moon, lighting the way,

the galaxies and stars wheeling overhead,

the gentle swaying of the camel beneath me,

the slight ache in my thighs.

I could hear faint shouts of Arabic;

I didn’t understand what they were saying,

but I could hear the curl in their consonants,

the beauty in their language.

 

I want to remember the way my hands burned in the cold,

how the wind whipped through me;

my socks had been slipping in my shoes.

I want to remember the feeling of dry eyes;

I didn’t want to blink because my eyes knew the sights

before them were temporary.

 

I want to remember how my thighs ached as I climbed ,

how I grew familiar with rolled ankles on hard stones.

I want to remember the satisfaction of reaching the top,

climbing onto the rocks to wait for the sun to greet us,

and how vibrant the colours were when the sun finally appeared.

I want to remember heavy blankets wrapped around shaking bodies,

unable to cover the wonder and awe in the eyes of each person there.

I want to remember this moment,

the warmth in my chest,

and I will hold onto this moment for all the other moments I want to forget.

 

March 20, 2017

 

 

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