Mustafa, We Are Lost
Doann’s interest in history and its relationship to current evens can be seen in her poem about Turkey, published on her website. Although written in 2011, it was prescient about today’s issues in that country, where she spent several months in 2008-09.
(For Turkey as it was and in memoria for Ataturk)
I am saying
remember,
law stands tall,
women too,
education
free for all,
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 history,
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 by Erdoğan.
I am saying
all I have left
splinters of memory—
blood-stained prison wall;
splinters of bone,
all I can see.
