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  • Writer's pictureŞarkılara Mektuplar

The desire that gives wings to the words of the music

Updated: Dec 3, 2021

Dear Banu,

That spring

while dreaming among jasmines

no one knew our story yet

no one had heard our songs yet

but we were there

there was a melody that swept through us


with different words only

You told me about the moonlight you were struck with,

about the loosening of the loops,

between crickets and stardust.

a mother who could not breastfeed,

stolen lives

time in purgatory

you mentioned human

between earth and sky

what you say is a non-fitting.

You were looking for letters without envelopes and stamps

in that non-fitting

exhilarating feelings

in that place

hands we trust

and words that will spread wings to its owner in the sky of song.

I was younger

with the joy of geraniums overflowing in front of the windows

with a life that did not fit home

and like a girl who wants to be a postman

with a bunch of cloves on my tongue

I was flying to the same corner of the sky where I wrote.

Between vines and honeysuckles

I was writing poems at every height I climbed

I was leaving letters at the bottom of every rose tree I found.

A voice inside me,

couldn't take a huge sigh and wash it all away

maybe the movement of the mountains

maybe just a random slur to the world.

They said I was thinking with the heart of a dragon

but I was turning into jasmine in my dream

because we named the letters to songs,

we named not fitting into life.

When the first song was heard

the pomegranate of the heart had opened its first flower.

Together we saw the pollination of patience and enthusiasm

the color of passion and reproduction

more ways to go, more words to say

and the will of the music that gives wings to its words.

This morning

lilacs in a glass of water

an unquenchable desire

wakes me up

says "see"

Jasmines have covered the walls of the city again

"hear, look"

the smell of jasmine all over the streets

and although not everyone knows our story yet

our songs are still being sung

and face of time is again

flourishing love.


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