Was It the Russians, the Ottomans, or Even the Europeans?
Tell me—
Was it the Russians,
watching from across the Caspian,
with maps in their pockets
and salt in their boots,
who feared too many languages
living in one man?
Was it the Ottomans,
who saw tribes like lines on a ledger
and called anything unaccounted for
“dangerous”?
Who whispered,
“He marries outside the fold.
He speaks too many fires.”
And signed something in a smoky tent
near Şırnak or Kars?
Or was it the Europeans —
the ones who measured skulls
and named souls “minorities,”
who called the east savage
and the mountain too Kurdish?
Did they point a finger
and say,
“He must not mix
with her.
He must not make
children like her.”
And from a distance —
with clean hands —
condemned him?
Was it all of them?
Did they do it together?
Did empires nod in unison,
while a man with Steppe fire
and mountain tenderness
was taken from history
and turned into silence?
I only know this:
He was not buried with a name,
but he lives inside mine.
And I will not stop asking
until someone breaks
and tells the truth.