Cry Out

Discoveries are made in unlikely places like the shortboard couch with two crocheted hearts on hard pillows served as the bedding. The yarn folds held me in place like sticky bumps. My calves hanged over the wooden armrest and socks pressed into artificial green Christmas tree limbs; undressed. During the stay reassurance came from a two-dimensional Jesus portrait collecting dust in the corner of the shoebox flat. A safe place to rest in the presence of my enemies. One among millions. A lavender memory foam horseshoe travel pillow was my best asset flat on my back. My head cradled in care in the Shu of Cairo.

Far more intimate than a pillow is a funny personality uncovered by sheets of peace and a tool of clairvoyance meditating into the deep. Realize the escape to Egypt is all caught on living tape. A two-dimensional Jesus poster shattered along the way. The beautiful outlaw could understand my thoughts from afar while the reverberating azaan audio waves pierce ears soliciting tradition and religion. The collective decibels blaring from the loudspeakers keep the routine in line. Swarming muezzins echo from minaret to minaret to minaret like emergency sirens. They belt and spray like cresting sea foam hoping the listeners will join. Things consistently compete for attention. But if you never go, it will remain secret how irreverent roosters too will cock-a-doodle-doo from the rooftops of the Shu. It’s in this juxtaposition how the humor is voiced by a higher law to live and chuckle by. Jesus in authority stands center stage as he allows an unforced rhythm of grace to be with us so inside and outside it would be identified as true intimacy with the Father. The mysterious timing of it is his interactive way.

Unaccustomed to the reverse of day and night by spinning the globe my eyes were as red as tuk-tuk headlights on the move. They do not blink until they break. The rooster on the roof conducts a pre-dawn raid to break the day with a high-ranking crow. Cock-a-doodle-doo. These roosters were made to boost the stock of the daylong before men decided when they ought to call out to God. The rooster informs me about how Jesus said, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.” Light beams echo glory in the highest.

There’s no looking back after you leave the flat. A blue-eyed black and white cat sits in the chaotic scene. Although unloved and unwelcomed it roams freely. It came as grace before the slaughtering storm. Whether there is feed or no feed barnyard animals abound in the street. Our minds are feeding on something. Horses stand in the shallows of trash heaps looking for something to eat. Street economies are exposed by the florescent tube lights. Motor vehicles pass by as quickly as Egyptian pounds exchange hands deep within the mazes of apartment complexes. The foot, wheel and hoof traffic kick up brown powdered and packed dirt. It becomes the foundation on the exteriors and make-up on faces. Trace the footsteps of feral cats. Several of them lounge on large piles of pulverized construction material. Packs of dogs run from one block to another to abruptly assert their territory to other malnourished mix breeds. Sharp-pitched barks explode during the middle of the night. Be still, until the intruder turns the other way you lie awake until the skirmish is resolved.