Zipping through

December 5, 2013

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Lights, nights, colors, faces, smiles
rhythms, smells, cigarette smoke
all the textures in stone, bricks, cement
metal, wood

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Istanbul

Zeytin the cat with the olive green eyes
My dog with the golden eyes
playing with a tiny toy dog
People smiling on the street

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the politics that rake the heart
craze the brain

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the call of the muezzin
climbing the hills, echoing from one mosque to the other at 5:30 AM
on the other side of the night

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Starting to slide into the life,
Smiles, hugs
a home of sorts

The cold wind, the Istanbul winter I was told about has arrived
all the black coats moving against the ancient walls
Yellow taxis… taksi… taksi they almost whistle in the night

who am I in this tapestry, but another black dot
“You are not like the other Canadians we met”
said the American and Australian girls.
Who am I?

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Sometimes I am weak
Sometimes I am wise
Sometimes I am completely crazy
Sometimes I am thoughtful and quiet

The music is starting to impregnate itself
on the cells of my brain.

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I discover about the Kurds, the Alevi, the Armenians
Governments, the burning need those who are awake have to denounce this mad system
to change things.
We cannot sleep in the West,
We cannot be so arrogant

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We must all come together,
Like when the musicians gather and
join in a jam session and play everything
from the blues to old Kurdish songs

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One Response to “Zipping through”


  1. This post is GORGEOUS in both word and image, Danielle! That is some really deep stuff right there. WOW!

    Seraphim Robinson


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