“The Fit”
They say he was from Kars,
an Azeri by name,
marked by borders he never chose.
But the soil under his feet
was never loud enough
to hold his voice.
He walked through ruins
etched with empires,
but his footsteps echoed
only in the direction of Kurdistan.
Because there —
the wind moved differently.
The hills breathed.
The language paused
as if it remembered him
before he even spoke it.
He was not born there.
But he arrived
like someone who had
waited lifetimes
to return.
Not to claim,
but to belong.
Kurdistan did not ask
where he came from.
It opened its chest
and made room
for a forgotten son.
So when they said
“Azeri from Kars,”
they only named
his beginning.
Not his becoming.
Because some people
don’t fit into the land they’re given —
they find the land
that finally fits them.