Untouched Writings

[Gokhan]

Dear Black Son,

Much I cannot conceive as I do have none to create
Also for relief seeking at the very sands of once said
Own remembrance yet to not mourn any souvenir
Belief shall interrupt before self drowning in each tear
To concur the invasion strengthened by pluralism
Hyperbole over difference as to suggest recidivism
Occupied brutally since how we serve like a prisoner
Absolute favoritism among people sharing the shelter
Live by the ghetto to value the rising of the sun
“Is this love?” screamed my dear black son

Dear Black Daughter,

Within times is hidden the stolen dreams of yours
How to face such disappointment not made by a choice
Indecisive days followed once to conclude an error
Yet every solution tangled as I consume the failure
The depth of concern beneath any ignorant look
Such mercy cannot exist into the risks we took
Away to harmonize unity shaken by each attack
Foreseen the chaos of any intention to step back
Heavy how effort falls to carry a raped future
“Is this love?” screamed by dear black daughter

Dear Black God,

Upon worships you seek are pretendings of silence
Advanced performing whose stage intentionally collapses
To who shall hope commits awakened in souls beneath
For worsened belief immigrates from its zenith
An often rainbow appearing on the harassed lands
Which carry the colors of rage created by no chance
Below crossing fates I exchange the given paradise
Knowing what is wasted for only cheer to visualize
Underneath is found the captured freedom of heart
“Is this love?” I screamed my dear black God

[Gokhan]

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