(For Turkey as it was and in memoria for Ataturk)
I am saying remember,
law stands tall, women too,
education free,
new language for learning, reading,
remembering,
Splinters of memory.
I am saying
remember,
dreams sculpted for peace
ideas sculpted for democracy
Ankara sculpted as central,
secular, the new religion.
Splinters of memory.
I am saying
remember
the hedonistic scent of almond trees
in spring, olive groves ready for gathering,
wheat fields in pinnioned rows,
barrels of potatoes stored
in old caves, baskets of lemons
ready for market.
I am saying
remember
sepulchral cities of Cappadocia,
ancient Roman arches veiled
in pine forests,
columns and shards shadowed
in turquoise water, Greek theaters
with still perfect sound, the Blue Mosque,
the civil civilization our father of Turks
dreamed, thought, visioned.
I am saying
you cannot
remember,
cacooned without Mustafa,
buried in the flag,
caliphate reappearing
oligarchy returning.
Mustafa, you said no
emphatically NO.
I am saying words
formed from your language
eulogizing your vision
as we shuffle away hushed,
are dragged away silenced,
prodded, prisoned, tortured.
I am saying
all I have left
splinters of memory—
blood-stained prison wall,
splinters of bone,
all I can see.
Ancient Greek theater in Phaselis.
Cappadocia hillside cave houses.
A Turkish family enjoying their work and proud of their harvest.