My Fellow Tree in Miri
On Canada Hill, where cool winds wander
through the jungle’s emerald silence,
I found you,
a solitary dry tree.
Why have you withered?
You resemble the great rocket tree
I once admired in Niah Park.
No branches lean toward yours,
no neighboring trunk offers an embrace.
Alone amid such abundance,
you stand much like me.
Had I met you earlier,
I would have shared my stories—
lessons on enduring
the company of the indifferent.
I long to hug you, my fellow tree,
and share what life has taught me:
how to keep standing when no one notices,
and that solitude is not defeat.
***
In Jogja
(for Sister Nia Amira and Richard)
The three of us
wander through temples of love,
through ancient moments,
sultans’ palaces,
and a quiet cemetery upon green hills.
The fragrance of countless blossoms,
their petals bright as scattered dreams,
brush against our souls.
Clothed in ceremonial garments,
shuffling gently like penguins,
we descend into a dimly lit tomb
and offer our prayers
to the Sultan of Jogja.
The three of us
leave our fleeting footprints
upon ancient stone steps,
where centuries still linger.
My beautiful friends
hold each other’s hands tightly,
as though gathering warmth
from time itself.
We sip sweet coconut water
beneath the tropical sky.
But you –
despite everything,
despite the heat,
despite the coconuts waiting –
choose coffee.
Always coffee.
***
ONLY SIGNATURES
In the breath…
of the sea breeze…
we gather
we laugh
we weep
Tirilye!
Tiril, yo!
Tur, el, yo!
Olive trees… whisper…
low… low… low…
an ancient song of peace
across the Sea of Marmara…
Tirilye!
Diril, ya!
Dur, el, ya!
The armistice
not shouted
not forced
but gently signed
and still it echoes
beyond Mudanya:
bu dünya…
bu dunyo…
No weapons.
Only signatures
to silence the drones.
Let it spread
From Tirilye!
Diril, ya!
Dur, el, ya!
Only signatures!
Sadece imzalar!
Tirilye!
Tiril, yo!
Dur, el, ya!
***
In Tirilye’s historic hall,
Six women writers and a man weave their beautiful stories.
High atop an ancient pillar, an old turtle dove perches,
Gathering each colorful tale beneath its wings,
As though it cherishes them more than anyone else in the room.
***
