My Camel’s Name is Bob Marley – by William Wieliczka



I had a choice of three Bobs to haggle for (Arabs love to haggle)

        One of which I do not remember and the other one ended with Dylan.

I made the right choice with Marley and we headed out to a nearby village

                               Bob and I.

I had things to do and Bob would see that I got there,

        but it was a wasted trip that had us trekking back through the desert.

                  Annoyed and  rushing to Dahab I may have missed it on my own. 

I may have missed the purpose (the true purpose) of my trip

    And yet Bob would see that I didn’t.

          Sound echoed around us in a flowing rhythmic chant.

          It was Man’s voice at its most sincere that halted Bob.

                             And me. 

I rolled my eyes upward and with no lights the sky was too vivid to be real

        I saw things I had always seen up there

                 and yet they were nothing I ever saw before

I never prompted Bob to go prone, but he did

        And let me off.

We laid there together, my head against his side

               looking up at sights discovered and listening to that enchanted prayer.

     Bob seemed disinterested, but that was just his style.

Every decision at every crossroads had led me there to that perfect place and moment

                    in the middle of the desert

          Where life’s mysteries grew and overwhelmed me

then subsided as I no longer tried to know the answers,

          but rather grew to learn the questions.

     In the loneliness of that desert gazing up at the stars

An eternity of time in but half a night was gained.

                       God, I miss Bob.



(note: image is from


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