…epic poetry…with the intent to reveal…

soiling lies

inside the coat of my mother’s yearning

its snow color fur on my black midi-length

dabbing my face

wet with virgin flakes

an anchor its receded touch

rusted out through and through

in struggle to sew my fabrics together

to repaint each of my two myrrhed walls

cold

the table hasn’t been set for too long

waterless the ewer breadless the hearth

beds unmade in their tucked-in warmth

devoiced the radio ringless the doorbell

interference over and over and over

silenced words silencing the road-weary spirit

icy bare halls resounding unending wishes

dark

slipping through my fingers

while i saw nothing in the oozing mirror

it bled once again from out of each spore

i turned a cliffside into a dam this time

but overlooked the open flood gates

dry

her lap a pillow of tender quills

the worn-out blanket soaked in her scent

“snow falls on top of those who sleep”

awake

sequential persistent nonetheless covert calls

to pay a visit to pay a visit to pay a visit

alive

activate the life support though now in vain

quieted with force yet determined to self-end

ensuing her sevenhundredfortyone and a half-day extent

on the seventh of the fifth with eternal respect

ceding her remaining air to her beloved kin

she spins to a nothing never to be felt again

no womb to take the tears to

late

void

shrill

in pity the homeland enters the main vein

revives herself in memory reappears in flesh and blood

her scent crawls through each of the passing cells

thirst arrives in hunger pangs

eight precious households come into view

singing dancing flowing in sync to an eternal feast

mute

eyes lock on the trail to her breathtaking peak

from where the sea struts its azure wealth many seek

and there a mere step away

dons the house its unending hospitality

bricks worn out shutters in their lately ashen trace

erect in its famed humbleness as yet

vying to amass a few more gasps

the ornate transoms eye the vast sky

their weathered glances collapse as waves

the ground’s dirt is tender as maternal caress

its trees’ depleted roots ready themselves to finally rest

as have those who were there before lying forgotten abreast

decomposed

heart seeks shelter on the faded print undug

wide concrete steps lead to a colossal wooden door

where a stately man holds a briefcase in one hand

a fedora complements his stunning handsome face

a mere toddler my mother’s one intensely beloved brother

his nose glued on the front window in their mother’s arms the other

a gorgeous sight my own sweet darling mother

as one yet with her all-giving esteemed soul

warm

her precious girl all grown up

on her path of rights escorting more than a few wrongs

having pained many a hearts no exception her tortured core

housed beside those by whom she does not belong

in her filthied resting place she laced not only once

heeding love’s enticing whisper in relentless hope and intoxication

inside its stolen womb questing its easing promise to not end

is it courage in her choice if left with the intended self to blame

fake

the bliss of a mask of strength the innocence-alluring pretense

hollow

knitting her fate into her caftan weaving patternless loops

feared

cursed

disapproved

still in refusal to sense the self’s contention

© hülya n. yılmaz (March 20, 2015)

“soiling lies” – together with the works of my seventeen fellow poets appeared in the “Epic Poetry” section of the April 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.