Trance

It must’ve been a dream

swirling torches, whirling faster

and faster under the light of the moon

a bright half turned on its side

shining down on the dangerous dance

of heat and light, darkness and flame

ever speeding as the bronze arms go

faster and faster while the feet step

intricately over one another in an

entrancing tumble of fire and flesh

in the middle of the desert, captivating

the hundred watching eyes enthralled

by the daring, death-defying nimble

limbs unscathed by the heat

it must’ve been a dream.

It must’ve been a trance.

The endless sky, bigger than ever before,

Engulfing everything endlessly

In its wide, dynamic blueness.

In contrast, the desert lay below,

The tan a compliment to the blue,

The light sand a perfect foil to the night sky.

The sky of wispy clouds, many colors,

Framing the white-hot sun by day

And dazzling diamond stars

Attending the queenly moon by night.

The camels, large and comfortable,

Plodding stubbornly forward

Regardless of the heat or cold,

Swaying in obstinate, mundane majesty.

It must’ve been a trance.

It must’ve been a hallucination;

With the foods, the colors, and the smells

All fascinating, intricate, of another world.

Bitter light coffee in tiny portions

Married to sweetest dark dates in full freshness.

Mountains of rice, orange and white,

Filled with spices and meats, too much to eat,

Yet you feel you haven’t eaten

As soon as you take another bite

Into the freshest parsley, the smoothest hummus,

The sweetest salad, and the best flatbread.

You feel the textures with your fingers,

Diverse in richness, warmth, and hue.

You taste the little fried balls of dough

Drizzled with sweet date syrup

And garnished with white sesame seeds

And you can never get enough,

Your stomach never ends;

It must’ve been a hallucination.

Whether it was a dream, a vision,

A trance, hypnosis, a spell, hallucination,

An accident, or somehow reality, I know not.

It must have been a trance and yet

The pictures were taken, the files were made,

the moments were documented forever

in physical recesses and cabinets

somewhere tangible in memory and sight

even as the henna remains on my skin,

though unlike henna, this design

has drawn cracks on my heart and I fear

its permanence though it was only a trance.

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