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Yazan by Sadık Yalsızuçanlar   
09.04.2017 11:10
 When I saw you in the night, cold and in the crowd, that was what İ wanted to say: Strange. You are strange. I see it. While I am sitting on this couch at this very moment, I look into your eyes, to the place in them fae from homeland. You are a picture of that foreign land. Only this word can describe you. Away from home, some find a new self, some find a new place to call home. You are strange. You are standing in a strange place. İn silence, just like that, for hours...You turn your eyes away from me and then after a second you look at me again. I've been watching you for days. As I watch you, I see that you are disappearing into the abyss inside you, you are hiding. You are hiding from my eyes. I thought I knew you, but I was wrong. As I watch, I fel purged. I get rid of the burden on me, inside me. When I look into your eyes, you pull me into your foreign land. As I go in ther, I learn silence, modesty,i faith and patience. maybe your other name is decency. İt can only be learned with patience. I know this is not something that can be learned  though and I learned that from you. What you have is only silence. It seems that there is a circle I can't see but feel, a  circle of existence and you are nestled in it. Sirene

Quiet. You are standing still, calm and you seem like you don't have a care in the world. do you know that I was mesmerized by this? When I first saw you like that, I felt like flying through a cloud, I rolled down from the peak of a snowy mountain and got lost in that cottony snow. You penetrated into my soul so deeply, that, from the pores of my face, chest, fingertips, running into my body and spreading into the mysteries of the soul that hosts it, you surrounded me, you bundled me up with mercy, without hurting me, with your gentle touch, like dressing, you healed my wounds, the howling inside me started to quiet down.

While you were silently penetrating into my soul, I was thinking about the pain I caused you. They say that one can only travel to thisown heart and you ran away from me to yourself, turned the inside of you into a foreign land. when I looked at you, I saw the nooks of that land. There were so many deserted places in there. Inside it was like an endless cave with a high ceiling. Inside was silence...desolation...strangeness...an unbearable vagueness...emptiness...There weren't any kind of emotions like grudge, regret, mercy, wrath but only silence. Your eyes were the door opening to that vast. When I looke into them, the door opens slowly and you let me in. You look so innocent. You can't imagine how much this makes me sad. While you were telling me how you'd stayed up late waiting for a call from me for a year and a half every day, we came home.  I lookewd for the keys to open the door. I could not find them. I put them into the inner left pocket of my coat some hours ago.  It was not there. We were locked out. You looked into the sky. You said that the star were beautiful. Yes, I said, here the nights are darker, the difference from the day is obvious. I thought so, you said. You thought what? That you lived in a place like this. But I told you about the trees. Yes. Look that's the black plum I wrote you about that I could see only a branch of it, a flowering branch, from my window...Y ou hold the branch like you were caressing. It was dry. It is dying you said. I felt the fear in your voice. It was so far away. You tried to look into the stars through the little veins of its dry and yellow leaves. There you can find something that eyes hold on to. When you look from here, you see it differently. From there you could not look into the stars but your own wounds, it is like the last moment of life. Isn't it so? It is, but you don't want to accept it. I've waited for you to say a single word for months. I waited for you to say something, I didn't care if it were meaningless. you can't imagine how this negligance destroyed me. I guess now I can imagine. Why? I miss you when I'm with you. When I look into your eyes, I miss your fingers. When I caress your hair, I miss your lips. Why do people miss people? What kind of feeling is this? Why is everything escalating, growing? How can someone endur that? ıt feels like we all are in the same story. Look, that's an apricot tree. Look at its buds. They bud out in the first week of April. They are trying to tell you something while budding out. What do they tell? they have the enthusiasm. You can feel them burning with a desire. This is an apple. It turns pink and then red. The smell is intoxicating. Like the smell of lilacs near the wall.It takes mits roots so deep into the earth that small branches grow up into the sky, like a journey. I can see them. I couldn't  see them until three years ago when I was living in a flat facing north in a Three-storey building in the city center. I couldn't see the trees,  stars, rocks, earth, thyme plants, wild rabbits, weasels, foxes and the owl that sometimes perches on my car mirror. I couldn't see you either. You are so innocent. So pure, so clean. Looking at you feels like grisping the earth. Your lips seem so graceful. In profile, your upper front teeth are a bit rabbit-like, your upper lip covering them is lovely. the desire inside me grows when I look at it. I desire you so much. Then your eyes. Big, hazel eyes, then your black eyebrows. I look at them. When I look at you I loose my contact with the outside world. Things become obscure and they vanish. You don't leave anything behind. You capture me, pulling me toward you, pulling me into your soul, you swallow me. There is something charming in your eyes, like a mist, a vagueness like a cloud. it puts me under a spell. When I look into them, your eyes, I see the edges of your soul. You can't certainly know what kind of a thing soul is, when they ask you about the soul, tell them that the soul is of the affair of my Lord. When I first heard that, I didn't know the meaning of "affair" here. I thought it meant something like concern or responsibility. Someone I asked said that it meant matter. Matter...That doesn't mean anything either. What is it? What does it have to do with soul? What do you have to do with me? I love you, where does this feeling come from, who set my soul on fire? What is this thing that makes me turn my attention grow? Why am I sad when I don't see you? Why do I miss you when you are by my side? Who are you? What is soul? How can I feel your soul that deeply? How can you chain me to yourself like this? Why do I loose myself? What is this? That's a walnut tree. Really? Yes, thats an English walnut. You pull a dry leaf of, crush it and then smell it. Smell of the walnut pervades. Did you plant these? Yes. That must be interesting. Right. I remember a line of an Amish from a movie. A bank employee and his wife run away from the police and take shelter in the house of Amish . Lying, he says that he is the cousin of this Amish. Amish is aware of the situation but he keeps it cool. seeding time comes. The bank employee helps with the corn seeding. Few weeks later, staring at corn field shining like a diamond, he looses himself, "I can't believe, have I done all these?" Amish replys calmly, "My cousin, ı've never stopped being surprised by God's miracles." When I moved to this house with garden on the countryside and started growing tomato, cucumber and peppers, when I saw the nursery trees I planted in the warm earth beneath after cleaning the snow on the surface and digging the frozen earth, blossom few months later, I felt the same thing. I knew that world was a dream when I was in that chaos but it is different now. Now there you are. There is your pain. there is the loneliness room you mentioned when you were telling me about  your childhood. You said it was like a well, when I entered the room, it was like going down in a dark well. Down to the end of the world...Not to the underground, I would go into my shell, fall into loneliness. It seems like you go out of there now. You smell the leaf of walnut again.. What do you think, you ask me while sitting on a couch near bookshelf. "I feel like a pomegranate, lying on a table, cut into half" I say. You smile. Look, these are the pronouns, I, you, he, she , it...it feels like the fear of our body will fall to the ground someday. My childhood was like that. How? I was alone, so alone. My father's yelling, violence and wrath would spread around, sneak into the crannies of the house and wind us to a corner, into the secret drawers, inside the worms nibbling wardrobes, my mother's dowry in mothballs, to the open eyes of 'the ded of brown mountain' growing inside me. I wish my father hadn't been so angry. He hadn't upset my mom. I wish I could hug him, talk with him about everything. I could wait for him at night. I wish I could tell him that I love him...

You are crying. Quietly, you are crying. My heart tears out when I watch you, your tears falling from your big, hazel eyes, spill into my chest like hot melted lead, burning it.

I feel like a pomegranate cut into half, sitting on the sofa opposite you...

It's just gone five o'clock...My ears are ringing, I'm sleepless, I'm tired. My pieces are falling apart. I'm watching your fingers now. THey are a favour without an explanation and a reason. I nstle up to you and touch them. our fingertips touch each other. aAs if they were kissing. You are the appearance of the name Al-Quddus. You know, appearance means manifestation and manifestation means lifting bride's veil at a wedding night.

As I watch you, as things fade away and your soul appears, as the curves of your body fall to pieces, curtaines are opened, secrets of your soul are revealed one by one. I am looking at every one of them now.  I smell it. every time, I see you from a different perspective. Every moment, I see a different face of yours. There is a solid apparition on your face. your attitude changes but your quietness and decency stay the same. I look at your killing beauty. Good thing that you are here. You smile again. Your words caress me. I am unaware of what I've just said. Really? Yes. I feel it. Your eyes shining with joy, reminds me of black plums blossoming. We stop speaking, we pass through a thin thing.

Predecessors and successors are just a figure of speech.

You are here and that's enough for me. It is the only thing that is real. you are here. With me. Facing me. I can touch you. You are inside me, we are in a mystery whose dream is worth the whole world. Good thing that you've come. I was waiting for you, I2ve got my eyes on you for years. Finally you've come along.

It is dawn.

You are tired, do you want to sleep?

No, I want to stay awake.

Always stay the way you are. Be with me. Please don't leave me. I promise, I won't leave you. Please don't leave me. I can't live without you. Hush...please stop...silent. I look into your eyes, there is nothing else but you now. everything is you. We are all from you. You are divine  light, you are a discovery. I explore you, you show me a different side of you whenever I look at you.

I look at you, pick up your roses. I look at you, I smell you. I look at you, I hear you. I look at you, I see a word you said.

Your pain sooths. Your wound is healed. I kiss your fingertips, you slowly draw them back. Please don't touch...Please calm down, don't cry. I can't stand it, don't do this. See, I am here. I am out of this world, I am in your arms. Your image and true-self are not the same, I can see that.

Let's watch Kurosawa's Dreams.


Yes, just like this agree with me all the time, when you are same on the inside and outside, the meaning of the universe becomes clear. The universe means seclusion. Now, in this room, in this universe, where the sunshine falls on the carpet on the floor, passing through the window, we are in seclusion. We are not two, we are one. We are with the one, we are making each other one.

Please don't look at me like that. You are embarassed. You are decency, decency is you. How can you be so elegant? When I look at you, I see the divine light. You explore and make me explore. You are my wish but isn't it weird that you don't run away from me? We are watching the best one of the dreams, village of the watermills dream. Watermill turns, water flows, old lady dies, her lover bids her farewell joyfully, you sit opposite me, I look at you all the time, as I look at you, you are renewed, growing up; a glitter shines inside you more and more, you look like a lantern, it burns inside you and it burns me, it must have looked upon us, it didn't just create and then abandon us, it must have looked us with an evil eye so it curtains us.

Open the curtains. The sun is rising.
Let's sleep now



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"Ayrılığa ulaşsaydık, ona kendi acısını tattırırdık." İbn Arabi  

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