ANGEL IN THE DESERT

Convinced by laughter and Andre’s
reassurance that even insurgents
eventually go to sleep, we move out
deep in the night, the headlights out,
with only the shadowy rise and fall
of the mountain ahead of us. I say,
all I know of this road is that human
hands may have interfered with their
ancient silence, and the bones of
the long dead may have been disturbed.

We groan and squeak over stones
and rocks. You tell me you can feel
each contour of this darkened road
like second nature. We move along
and you promise me that all the specks
of light in the gloom are the eyes of dogs
looking at us. You tell me that soon,
we will arrive at the compound
where a showering room awaits us,
its tiled floor covered with hibiscus petals
and two wooden stools. There we will sit
and stare into the sky while the wide brim
of the shower anoints us holy, holy, holy.

And this is when I ask you to stop. When I ask
if you see ahead, the silhouette of an angel
with open wings asking us to come.
You wait; then say, yes, I see.