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  • Writer's pictureŞarkılara Mektuplar

Oh my dear sister wind

I want what I have to say to you. I'm so sorry if what I've heard here goes away and disappears one day. Maybe thanks to you, these sounds cross continents and seas with a breeze. Maybe others can hear the voice of the woman who calls out "Oh my brothers" on that balcony. Just because of this possibility, I will now call you "Oh Dear Brother Wind". Actually, it's pretty crowded. But I don't know if it's crowded as I see it or if I think so. Finally, a pair of eyes… Oh Dear Brother Wind! I'm amazed to see so many good intentions here, you know? This is the first time I have witnessed that a woman who lost her husband did not utter a single destructive word, even though her voice, body and soul were shattered by sadness. In fact, I want this witness to reach everywhere. Then maybe this writhing voice will be good for everyone's heart. Maybe it tells something to everyone's heart. That tragedy still stands there. The tragedy of the past is in the hands of those who hold the wings of that bird tightly. A story of the past but unfinished… The shadow of a person, of time and of all the possibilities that may be in the future is still there… The thin voice you expect to scream even though you are drowning from crying now says love that does not humiliate anyone. Love that doesn't kill anyone... Despite everything, despite what they saw, despite what they covered, despite what they killed. The woman who calls out to her brothers from where you hold the wings of that bird tightly is drawing such a picture! Even if you go over the contours of the picture many times, that picture never ends.

An unfinished, hurt picture

before it matures

in a silent scream

I Didn't Forget There

Oh dear Brother Wind! Don't forget too, will you forget?

Elif Ongan Tekçe

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