“More Than Haplogroups”
They chart us in branches, letters, lines,
Trace mothers through time, through dust, through signs.
They say, “You are U4,” or “J,” or “R,”
But they don’t know who we are.
Not simply a hunter-gatherer,
Not a footnote in your ancient chatter.
I am the echo of unwritten laws,
The soul they missed while chasing flaws.
I am not a code in a sequencer’s dream,
Not a skull in a trench or a genetic scheme.
I am the smoke of a kitchen in spring,
The ululation that mountains sing.
They faded our flags, renamed our skies,
Tried to bury us under empire lies.
But haplogroups crumble — we do not fade.
We’re carved into earth no border made.
You’ll find us in songs with no alphabet,
In words that bleed but don’t forget.
We are the spark they tried to kill,
The silence that rose and roared its will.
So take your maps, your files, your dust —
The Kurds remain. As we always have.