an airport we spent many hours
six occasions in just a few weeks
odd when you think
had we travelled
one year later maybe we'd have taken
a direct hit
random acts of violence
where the victim is a type not a person
are unsettling not knowing when it
will be you
Facebook tells me you are safe
but what does it mean? today the airport
tomorrow Taksim Square just around the
corner from where you work
you can call on
all the gods you know and all the gods
you don't believe in which ones will save us?
six occasions in just a few weeks
odd when you think
had we travelled
one year later maybe we'd have taken
a direct hit
random acts of violence
where the victim is a type not a person
are unsettling not knowing when it
will be you
Facebook tells me you are safe
but what does it mean? today the airport
tomorrow Taksim Square just around the
corner from where you work
you can call on
all the gods you know and all the gods
you don't believe in which ones will save us?
The randomness, yes. I wanted someone to write this poem, and knew I wasn't the one. That you know that airport and country is surely more anguish for you; it also makes the poem even more telling.
ReplyDeletewhat a moving poem. (We had planned to be there now travelling after a conference in Istanbul but my husband's workplace put a ban on travelling there!) Like you I'm worried about my Turkish friend who lives and works there.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this moving poem, Susan.
ReplyDeleteThe realisation that there is no God to save is a sobering one. My daughters husband is
ReplyDeleteTurkish and they were visiting his family with their two young children last October when the carnage happened in Ankara. Another attack impacts on so many. As their grandmother I feel for them at the thought a visit from their son and their grandchildren becomes more difficult. A powerful ending to his poem.
Thank you for all your thoughtful comments.
ReplyDelete