Poems

Growing up in two dreams

While you talk about sleep
Like someone who grew up in two dreams
My heart gets divided.
The light reflected on the wall
The words it makes,
Those words
Maybe it is because they come during the sleep
They are still swirling/turning around me.
They tell me about the mountains
The mountains
Standing with the blood of belief.

Because it is morning after all
Which will be waking us up.
The world that was taken from our hands and with birth
You advancing/walking on a mountain road
A house with a smoking chimney
The colour passing through water
Could still not tell
What is happening,
The one speaking to us
Who is it?

Because history has opened the wounds once
The shells bonded by anger
Have already become thinner.

We are now only taking refuge in sound
In the lit night.
To whom are we going to go,
With which words/utterance/talk are we going to tell the pain,
In which language are we going to ask for forgiveness?
We need a pure/pristine beginning
At the sunrise of the words
A beginning bonded to the soul.
We need the tenderness/affection of a home,
When you walk by its shore a house with a smoking chimney so that
On the soil of forgiveness
We deem it to be a home where we can take refuge and
We get quiet
We get quiet.

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