I light lamps, sow seeds of lighthouses
in gratitude for this weak flesh
that can build itself anew, in spite of the nights
when all the warmth in the world evades it.
I chant the names that don’t belong on my lips
with boundless grace and bitterness and longing
and not die from the memory of having lived.
I sit content and complete
knowing my breaking cannot forever stay in me.
I smile with relief,
knowing nothing would hurt as it should, as it does.
I write another poem of love,
knowing nothing I love will be loved well enough.
I look back at our old odd selves and find the heart to smile
knowing that the list of “beasts and wonders extinct” – only grows longer.
there is a land of promise
that only promises an end.
end to everything.
a painless but a sure end.
i wondered if i should dream to be there.
if i would be able to say this aloud
if i can say,”i dream of an end”.
if you ask “end to what?”
what shall i say? what i should i answer?
how does one begin to answer such questions?
the questions that do not mean anything
till they have an answer.
then those questions become regrets,
become point of no return.
an end surely is better
than the unbearable stretch of time,
the long life
that lies after the such questions.
how can you look at me the same way
when you know that my monstrosity and my weakness are the same?
how will i be able to pretend or play dumb?
surely an end is better
the endless days of pretend.
an end is better
than carrying the burden of this life,
this life that i don’t want,
than loving you and loving myself
with closed eyes and closed heart.
I dreamt of Galip’s dream,
He dreamt of sitting by a blue haired girl on a bus.
I dreamt of what he saw.
He looks at her sitting alone by the window.
He doesn’t wonder why her hair is blue.
He doesn’t ask why is she so beautiful.
He doesn’t wonder why she she alone,
at midnight boarding empty buses.
He sits and looks at her.
And imagines the people who see her everyday.
He looks at her eyes that look at
everything in the world as if she owns it.
That looked at everyone as if they are hers.
He wonders do these people know how fortunate they are
to be at receiving end of her smile.
He knows (as I know) why
she caught his eye.
She looks exactly as she is.
She is something he could never be.
Something I could never be.
Galip and me, both are caught in the storm of her being
And we forget what we are.
And it is bliss.