Quietspeaker

An elderly muslim man stands barefoot inside the first mosque on Africa’s continent built by General Amr Ibn Al Aas in Old Cairo, Egypt. At high ‘noon‘ stark sunlight floods his solemn prayer as he tilts forward in the oasis of silence. The azaan has prompted his response to listen and wait. The expression of faith has deepened as a pallbearer. A loved one rode on the survivors’ shoulders undulating like an Egyptian flag. An arcade of faint cylindrical columns frame the striking white crocheted skullcap with the present darkness. Ever so still within his full length galabiya swelling outward like a reverent dress. Worn Oriental prayer rugs are drenched by extreme lux levels expansively lie from one end to the qibla wall. Across the aisles the rank and file are well aware of their orientation. Unannounced, a Nasrani through the violent slurry stands in quiet solidarity behind the enemy lines because he answered the call to pray for his enemies within his own walls. A bath of fragrant rose water dissipates all the way up from the straight path.

Outside in the courtyard looking in, there speaks an inside voice in reference to how our heavenly Father is always around like ‘The Spy Who Loved Me.’ His persistent care hushes vexed voices who assemble into a fearful frenzy. Peace privately sponsored by its Prince is the solution to the noise and busyness pollution. Suspicion within Islamic tradition keeps one with a camera in captivity, but not for long. The One who lives in unapproachable light has compassion upon all he has made. Exiting the first mosque built in Egypt some may be perplexed, but the proper view would see the communal ownership between Islamic and Coptic Cairo. For centuries locals have seen the beauty in the bazaar because they stand together in cordons. These strands are all twisted together for a greater purpose. The meek are the inheritors of the riches placed on the reserve list. The written promise preferred to be etched in blood rather than announced through a loudspeaker.