My soul is Turkish

by Asli OMUR

Sima Bina sung to me, when I was 17
"My Soul is Persian"
"I want to be loved like Leyla from Mejnun"
Sima Bina dragged me on to  6 a.m.
Where I'd count the days of
My Quest to find out if my soul was still Turkish
Sima Bina made me remember
Winters with lonely music
How the tired summers spun
When i was 12, 13 then 14
I had to eat my thoughts
So I could escape the wrath of the One
Who birthed me
Sima Bina woke me with her shrilling throat
Skidding into the rhythms of an Iranian goodbye
Sima Bina never cruel she
Sang to me, when I was 18
A fallen girl to the possesion of a lover
Blooming -like the open sky
Laughter resting on my pillow
Near my ear Sima Bina
Could make the strangness go motion-less
Sima Bina held my fingers in her mouth
To dictate the language of
My wounded Turkish soul
When everything that was anything that belonged to my people
Disappeared.

I am what I am beneath the earth
The greenness of Islam
The seven teas between my people and me
Swallowing the mercilessness of an Istanbul
Sunrise painting the world in contrition
I am what I am in the middle of the page of
Dostievskys Word
I am the bookmark in life
Trying to separate today tomorrow
And the Izmir winds I caught in my mouth
Like cotton leaves taking flight
In the center of Anadolu
I am what I am inside the heart
Of my great grandmother
I am what I am in the whirl of vision
Striving to memorize Ataturks speech
When my people were released from their cages.