I had recently composed this poem in German. My translation method here is somewhat liberal. I hope you will enjoy my work with the words in their English transformation.
immediate
enforced
no final contact
warning failed
despaired devastation,
destroying humiliation
inevitable
self-respect, departed
massive grief, incapable of solace
too late to await
to expect at last
that what was evidenced
many years ago…
now
a mere I without a name
Filed under Poetry
waited
right from the outset
ingesting all signals
subtle but intense
had the courage to cite
a woman’s invite to unite
an elite member of times long past
from the Empire of the Ottomans, at last
yet, the choice, firm, had been made
with not one miniscule hope left
waited
right from the outset
this time, it is the end
must stop waiting to any further extent
for tomorrow’s ills are still to be met
Filed under Poetry
the skies may now appear as night
not much is left erect in sight
sorrow and destruction abound
whenever you look around
while despair may rise its ugly head
many cycles of sunshines still await
as in the hearts of those who here pen
these lines of care and encouragement
you don’t know us, and we, not you
through our minds, though, we unite
with these words, we do embrace
all together what you have to face
you will, thus, begin a promising phase
inside a new home, as you will soon call your place.
© hülya yılmaz, May 28, 2013
Filed under Poetry, Reflections
we mourn those who are killed
whether by nature or human hands
form groups for support
join in the pain in any way we can
honor, reminisce, collaborate
beyond a swift case of heartache
yet,
we forget
in the face of the ease
amid traffic on cyberspace
who gave us the chance to compensate
for the immense loss of those violently killed
the reporting souls who often tend to get
the thunder, the fire, the flood, the twister effect
from us;
we frequently resend
their tongue, their style, what they account –
they are the ones whom we neglect
now that there was a deadly whirling wind
by which twenty-four human beings were killed
none will remain a mere number –
mourners, there are a plenty
including young school children
one of whom was amazed to see
the celebration of the dead and the living;
like the three hundred and seventy-five people injured –
in welcoming hope, their lives we get to embrace
schools, destroyed;
12,000 homes, damaged or vanished;
some owners, already named –
numerous volunteers, fast ready to help
we, too, are thus, enabled to step in
locals, non-locals, other continents’ residents –
in body, in spirit or by spreading the word out loud
by writing, speaking, or simply wishing
strength in heart to those young and old,
who mourn loved ones for their lives’ ceasing
for, we have learned of your sorrow
thanks to the efforts in reporting
by those who live any- and everywhere
but also there
where you again will call home
Filed under Poetry, Reflections
the tune, throbbing in my mind
heart, ripped off of its home
worthless body
can’t even say goodbye
Filed under Poetry
Picture and Image Source: True Love never dies
While, in my view, nothing in life is ever as simple as the text above concludes, the heart, in immense despair, still tends to agree with the claim.
heart slows its beat
bloodrush in the head
at every grasp of the loss
asleep, awake,
or in a dreaming state
ears, deafened to sounds
eyes, blinded to colors
trembling voice in constant tears
thirst, hunger serves only to numb
elation departs
to leave behind
a fatal craving
to carry on and on
death comes
yet, not to kill
condemns to life
that undying void inside
Filed under Poetry
Today, I invite you to a special celebration. A celebration of life and death in love. I have compiled some of my old and new poems in commemoration of two remarkable mothers who lost their lives to cancer, each within one year after they had been diagnosed for another illness. My mother, who died when 48. And her niece, who has reached a mere age of 31 – my first-blood cousin, or better, my non-biological sister. What kind of a celebration does that make? One of survival through learning to cope by speaking out. In my case, by putting pain of this extent on paper. To rise above the fact that these incredibly selfless mothers live no longer. It is also a celebration of a different kind, though, for only through my poems I am able to bridge the mothers to their living daughters. There is thus a narrator, who is simultaneously also a participant in this – at times imagined, at times realized – communication: Myself. As for the precious daughters: One is my own, the other, my cousin’s – the youngest member of this, to me, unique group of women.
In the memory of my mother ~ ~ ~
The only language my mother – her name was Hesna – and I used was that of love on the inside and Turkish on the outside. I haven’t been able to celebrate Mothers’ Day for the last thirty-two years. So, today, I take the liberty of leaving a poem I had written for my mom in her and my external language in my second year of high school – seven years before her death. It has been always some comfort to me to know how much she had liked it:
Yavrundan Sana
Yağmur yağarsa dışarıda, gözyaşlarım sanıyorum.
Ağlayan bir ses varsa, senin sesine benzetiyorum.
Veda eden bir yüz görsem, senin yüzünü buluyorum.
Ruhum bir an daralsa, senin ruhunu hatırlıyorum.
Ufukta bir karaltı belirse, onda hemen seni tanıyorum.
Neden mi? Bilemem ki anne!
Didinen, uğraşan bir kadın görsem şekil değiştiriyor birden.
Annelerin kraliçesi, benim annem oluyor aniden.
Nedimelerin de her biri üstelik ayrı birer kraliçe, anne!
Sensizliğimi bir an hatırlasam, nankörce
Artık gözlerim buğulanmıyor anne.
Nasıl ki öyle tasavvur edemiyorum seni de
Ağlamayı bırak, sihrimiz kaybolabilir anne!
For my One and Only ~ ~ ~
After my daughter reached the age of an aware linguistic communication, I made sure to expose her at home to English and Turkish at the same time. As a foreign language teacher also back then, I knew firsthand the importance of acquiring a language outside one’s native tongue. You may want to skip reading the first two of the three poems below – about, for and to my daughter, as they are in Turkish. Unless, you want to experiment how the language looks or sounds like (exactly how it is written). The third is in English and one of my newer and saddest poems – reflective of an immensely trying divorce ordeal she, unfortunately, had to endure also:
[1]
Bir Taneme (1995)
To my One and Only
Gerçekte olamaz bu hiç, ama
keşke izleyebilsem seni her attığın adımında.
Kötülüklerini bir bir durdurabilsem zamanın.
Hoşçakal, hele elveda, hiç demesem sana.
Manasısın yaşamımın, aslısın, esasısın,
isterdim ki o nur yüzün asla ama asla asılmasın.
Metin ol, her zaman yürü kendi yolunda,
çok, ama pek çok seviyor seni bu ana.
[2]
Bir Taneme (2001)
To my One and Only
Nereye gitti yaşam?
Nerede o sevenlerim?
Miniciktim. Biriciktim;
Göçtü hep beni iyi bilenlerim.
Pek zormuş büyümek!
Uzak kalmak sevenlerden,
dünya dertlerine direnmek,
aman beklemek gelip geçenlerden.
Kalp ağrısı
Yılların ağırlığı
Sevenlerin ayrılığı
Alın yazısı…
Gene de sen gül, Yavrum!
Yaşam öylesine de güzel ki,
zorlukların yanında
birçok hoş zevkleri de var ki.
Yeter ki, başın hep dik olsun!
Gözlerinde dolu dolu heyecan;
Seçtiğin yollar hep açık;
Sevdiklerin gercek dostlar olsun.
[3]
twinning with *Munch – silent scream (2012)
onto death, I want to lay the self
my One and Only’s hope eyes erase the bed
before the head makes contact
onto death, I want to lay the self
deadlock is all I feel
what have I become?
what, though, had I been?
the husband…former already?
weary, distraught, ruined
my One and Only’s sun face takes a shadow now and again
it all began with her inside me
love took off to eternity with her every smile
my only precious bond to life
for whom I pushed aside the self
not one small regret
the one for whose hope death does not get me today
I made us a home, I glorified it
on my own for long, too long of many years
filling in for all marital lack: a promise is a promise after all!
years left, tens of years passed away
multiplied into trying decades
once looked aback, there exists a husband…
my One and Only’s sun face takes a shadow now and again
her graceful, not yet disheartened soul wound up
on the verge of a leap onto her own life
but…how about…
no, no, not possible!
once my One and Only is no longer home
having set onto her own path
the husband and I…
ways of ours ever so apart
how long, until where?
if the self can remain as self, that is!
onto death, I want to lay the self
my One and Only’s hope eyes erase the bed
before the head makes contact
onto death, I want to lay the self
deadlock is all I feel
what have I become?
what, though, had I been?
In the memory of my cousin, and for her one and only ~ ~ ~
I have written the final poem for the latest birthday of my cousin’s daughter, to honor not only her but also to commemorate the death of Hesna Yasemin, her long-deceased mother. For, a cancer detected too late due to wrongful diagnosis robbed her of any opportunity beyond a mere one year to celebrate her daughter’s much sought birth. There is, of course, much more to say about this beautiful young individual who is growing into a fine woman herself. In order to preserve her privacy, however, I am only sharing my one poetic work on her tragically short life with her mother. I make sure, though, to leave her within an imaginary talk her mother has with her in absentia:
Lilia, *mein Schatz
you won’t know me
I left too soon
you were born of love and longing so strong
made me feel immortal by your side
merely a year, though, is all we had aside
you are a young woman now,
beautiful, bright and loved very much
no longer the tiny darling in my arms
precious but ever so fragile,
sending me beams for immense joy
shaming even the cancer of its call
it is your birthday today
I am not there for you again
but don’t be sad as you are not on your own
also the one with whom you locked eyes long ago
in my in-laws’ house, on the ground story
when we were cradling you, a newly born beauty
the one who probably mirrored me to you
for the color of her skin, hair and eye
whose both arms better secured you many a meal
before you glided into a sleep so deep and real
embraces you always with my and her love combined
whom I introduced to you in her mother’s tongue
you know, mein Schatz, you have met her online anew
the one who signs her e-mails hülya *Teyze for me and you
*Schatz (German): treasure, darling, dear
*Teyze (Turkish): aunt; also “auntie”, in non-biological sense
A dream allows a reunion between the living and the dead ~ ~ ~
The final poem for today – one of my older works from a spirituality-oriented period in my life, retells a dream of mine in which another dream took place. In the framing one, I am having a direct conversation with my cousin. The verses are heavy in sadness first, as I am in despair having to relate to her my dream in which I attend to her infant daughter after her nap, change and dress her, play with her, inhale her sweet smell, laugh and giggle with her. But I also observe how my hands transform into those of my cousin’s very shapely upper extremities. My sorrow over this precious chance to experience her baby girl’s life, when her own mother is no longer, then, takes me to that over my mother’s void in me. I ask her why she hadn’t called for me instead. Toward the poem’s end, the sad tone eases, as I find strength for survival out of my death inside by diverting my attention to my daughter, who needs me very much. For, she is too young yet. The poem reaches a slow end with my promise to be there for her daughter along with my own. Not without acknowledging the immense load of such responsibility along with my doubt in being able to fulfill it, as these two mothers have been exceptional in every aspect of their beings:
Anneler ve kızları(2001)
Mothers and Their Daughters
Rüyamda gördüm gene seni.
Hıçkırıklarım bile bozamadı büyünü.
Yalnız değildin bu sefer, yavrunu da düşledim;
bir tek beni istedi uyandığında tutulmaya,
giydirilmeye, altını temizletmeye.
Güldürdüm, oynadım bebeciğinle, kendiminkiymiş gibi;
sevdim, kokladım, okşadım onu.
Ellerim an an seninkilerine dönüştü;
sendedir şimdi onun sıcaklığı, mis kokusu.
Nedense belirsiz bir yerde kalmayı yeğledin…
Senin yerine ben tattım, özlemini o miniciğinden.
Merak etme, iyi bakılacak yavruna;
sen huzurda kal yeter ki, sırdaşım, kardeşim!
Rahmetler arasında bul burada olmayanı!
Arada bir sorarsın herhalde hatırını annemin;
bilirsin seni çok, pek çok severdi.
Acaba neden önce beni istetmedi?
Ona yavrusundan en son haberleri götür,
Üzülmesin, sadece gülücüklü olanlarını!
Bitmedim, tükenmedim henüz;
ne de olsa bence küçük bir yavrum var.
O eşsiz varlıklarınızı yaşıyorum dolu dolu,
kendi yavruma yansıtmak umuduyla;
yaradanın ender iki ruhunu
bulsun diye kendi benliğinde.
Bilmem gücüm yetecek mi, ya da ömrüm?
Bir tarafta annem, bir tarafta sen
Kızım ve kızın ise burada…
Tamamlamaya çalışırken yarım özlemlerinizi,
yavrunu da yavrumu da unutmadan;
hem de onlara sizleri doğru tanıtarak,
acaba eşsizliklerinizi aktarabilecek miyim?
Tanrım, meğerse iki meleğini göndermişsin yanıma!
Yavruları burada, beraber benim biricik yavrumla.
Sığınıyorum sana, güç vermen için bana;
öylesine zor ki devam etmek arkalarından,
içtikten sonra onların muhteşem suyunu.
Ama biliyorum, anladım artık, bir görevim var benim:
Ne kadar zor da olsa,
birçok zaman umutlarım da kırılsa,
üzüntü ve yorgunluklarımla da sonuçlansa,
onlarsız onların tadını vermek yavrularımıza.
MAY THIS YEAR’S MOTHERS’ DAY FOR YOU BE FILLED WITH GOOD MEMORIES!
Filed under Poetry, Reflections
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