The Girl on the Train
Share Article The Moroccan girl with wild brown hair tied back is not on the train leaving a white station.
Her bare feet grip small pebbles as root structures dance with her toes.
Her grounded shadow prowls toward late winter light.
She is not on the red and brown train zooming past green fields as her sheep in long woolen coats eat their way through pastures after a two-year drought.
She is not on the train hearing music, eating dates, reading a book, talking with friends or strangers, sleeping along her passage, or dreaming of a lover. She does not scan faces of tired, trapped people in orange seats waiting for restless time to deliver them to the Red City.
Her history remembers potentates inventing icon free art, alphabets, practicing equality, creating five pillars of Islam, navigation star map tools, breaking wild stallions, building adobe fortresses and writing language.
She is not on the train drinking fresh mint tea or consulting a pocket-sized edition of the Qur’an. She does not kneel on her Berber carpet five times a day facing Mecca.
She does not wear earphones listening to music imported from another world, a world where people treasure their watches. Where illusions of controlling time is their passion to be prompt and responsible citizens.
She is not on the train and not in this language the girl with wild brown hair tied back with straw or flower stems surrounding her with fragrances.
Inside rolling hills cut by wet canyons she is surrounded by orange blossom aroma in yellow and green fields. Her black eyes absorb ephemeral cloud thoughts in sky mind. Her open heart feels her breath ripple her long shadow.
Her toes caress soil. She is lighter than air, lighter than an eagle soaring above the Atlas Mountains.
She smells the Berber fire heating tea for a festival. A shaman dances in a goatskin cape and skull below stars.
It is cold. Flaming shooting stars leap into her eyes. Her nomadic clan plays flutes and drums. She sways with the hypnotic rhythm of her ancestral memory.
She is not on the train.
She is inside a goat skull moving through soil, dancing through fields.
Red and yellow fire invites stars to her dance.
Morocco
