Babamın kucağında.Alişin dudakları bükülü

[Summer 2014, my dad with my grandson in his arms. I must have worn out those arms or hands by insisting for years he’d carry me…Then, when, just once, he gets the chance to hold his great-grandson, the little darling happens to feel not so comfortable as I have for time and time again]

For my 8.3.2014 blog post

[My dad, with a three-year old me in his arms – the date on the photo is original]


She died
at 48
I was 25
at each of our phone calls since
your shaky voice sang to me:
“We are behind you always!”

I am 58 now
even became a grandmother
but you know, dad, what I still do?
I keep looking back to see those loving four hands
not touching me not to risk my freedom
just being there, for anytime I might need their tender safety net
and how many times did I let go those slippery ropes
with you lifting me up from the choppy waters I dove into

I see you more and more in my dreams of the late
the way I used to see mom before her death
as if to sense my growing fear
this Bayram you told me the story of your family-side’s luck
how they “make it” to a rather late age…

One pair of hands have been gone for long
though you kept them close to your side all along
What am I to do, dad,
if the other pair is no longer behind me always?

hülya n yılmaz (© August 1, 2014)


Filed under Poetry

3 responses to ““Whiny”

  1. Beautiful and lovely post.its a wonderful blessing to see our grand children extending our existence.Jalal


  2. Thank you for sharing . . . . beautiful . . . ❤


Your readership is appreciated.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s