Kurdish Bomb
Being Kurdish means being a visible bomb—
A fuse lit in the silence,
Eyes that carry centuries of exile,
Steps echoing through denied homelands.
Nobody knows exactly who is Kurdish,
But everyone feels it—
In the fire that flickers behind every soft word,
In the stubborn rhythm of a language that survived
through clenched jaws and shattered borders.
And I—
I wanna be your bomb.
Not to destroy,
But to awaken.
Let me know,
And I will be your Kurdish bomb,
Not to be hidden,
But to be thrown—
Into the center of forgetfulness,
Where roots are erased,
And names are mispronounced.
I will explode in colors and vowels,
In resistance and dance,
In ink and fire,
In everything we were told to bury.
So yes—
Just say the word.
And I’ll be your Kurdish bomb,
To throw around
Like truth that can’t be silenced.