I’ve never been there

though I’ve never been there

I share your struggle,

fast with you

pilgrimaging to Mecca.

I’ve never been there

offering you my hand,

bringing books and pulseras

and parting the curtains in your room,

airing out the dirge

your fear of darkness: instead

planting hummingbirds in your hair.

reverence is easy

random kindness revitalizes,

music never heard before

now sounds familiar

across ancient deserts

our people once shared.

though I’ve never been there

I hear distant voices of your memories,

songs slipping through you like water

cleansing my path toward selflessness

shaping your path toward freedom,

and sensing your struggle

every time you breathe.

I pay little attention to

their rumors of holy wars

restrictions of the mind

insults and mistrust,

and distain their robes obstructing light.

I've never been there

yet I propose:

pastel visions open to Allah's air,

and because you are here

courageous budding gardens

beckon you,

there where rebirth begins,

a place where we both have longed for

though we cannot remember.

6/92

Tucson