You Were There…
AWhen you were a little kid in a small village, you had a great dream: "All the children of the world taking one another by the hand with love… All the hearts filled with love… And our old world experiencing a spring before its death… A world ruled by affection, compassion and justice…"
We felt this spring in a recent language Olympics; we experienced it while the entire nation was on its feet, weeping. Believe me, you were there; when the hearts were filled with love, when the hearts overflowed with tears, you were there. You were amongst us. All those who love you saw your teary eyes and watched your smile in amazement. Believe me, you were not far away; you were with us, inside us…
I saw you kissing and caressing the heads of those kids performing all our folk dances, singing our classic and folk songs in the most colorful ensemble of the world, carrying us away to a world of indescribable feelings, wrapping us in a great excitement, refining our own values in their beautiful hearts and then sprinkling other hearts in the world with love. Yes, I saw you caressing all their heads. I know you really care about what is held by children's hearts and the chests of the youth because they are very innocent and pure-minded witnesses. I watched your dewy eyes and saw vast horizons in them. I was curious about which green hills you were gazing upon and in which gardens you were picking roses. I wondered about all the tulips, lilies and wild flowers you smelled. I was curious because we need these horizons and this excitement badly these days.
In our remote cities you would spend a major part of your monthly salary on the Büyük Dogu (Great East) magazine [published by the great poet and writer Necip Fazil Kisakürek, d. 1983] so that it could remain alive and the Master [Necip Fazil] would not get upset. You watched that Mongolian girl recite his "Sakarya Türküsü" [Ode to the Sakarya River]. As she recited, she pressed red-hot cinders against our hearts and we wanted to shout, "We are no longer the outcasts in our own homeland!" Now all the world's rivers are Sakarya. And on their banks walk Yunus Emre, Mevlana Muhammed Jelaluddin Rumi, Haci Bektas-i Veli, Ahmed Yesevi… They have made the world a smaller place. And they are not returning willingly. They write their wills and they want to be buried in those countries. "We should be everywhere and reach everyone; there remain many places we need to go to," they say.
I know you were there. Wherever the hearts speak out and the chords of love are strummed, your name comes to our minds. We were made to forget the notion of living for others; you have reminded us that to live for others is a virtue. You always told us, "Run in the front, but never stick out." You were there, because all those selfless teachers were as humble as those heavy ears of grain, bending forward in the wind with humility. They were with us, but were invisible. As the beauty on the stage grew more and more, they grew in humility and said, "It's not us, it's the grace of God. He makes our job easier; we overcome all obstacles with His help and guidance. These are all His bestowments."
You were there. As the children of the world wove a satin world from love, we much better appreciated how great a treasure our differences are. You were there because we, the nation, were crying. We had forgotten how to weep with joy, hope and self-confidence. You were there. But we should have been more committed and loyal to your cau se. We could have been more courageous in untying the knots inside of us. And I dreamt a dream with this embarrassment. I wish it was you sitting in the front at all those tolerance and dialogue meetings like in the past; the warriors of love have long longed to watch your beautiful face and your ocean-deep gaze… I know, dreams need prayers to be materialized. And yearnings end with prayers…
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