CELALI² WE ARE
By Huseyin Arikan
For Şenay Eroğlu Aksoy…
in the name of your father, the city arrives. the dervish who put his robe on the past has a
fortress for winter up on mount uludag. if the dervish wants to hide something he hides it
and the children, sensing this, make their mothers drink blood. mothers will be resurrected
bloodless.
there is an abyss inside him, and he throws gods into it. everyone awaits his death, but he
passes it along. his turn never comes, so the chips never fall where they may. he has no
homeland to be expelled from. when grudges turn towards him, they dull, people rising against
him die. he has an imp, the beast walks on rooftops, leaning over children’s fever dreams and
cooling empty cradles. it drives dogs crazy, sends weasels where blood is. the imp will disappear when it rains.
the dervish has a robe like nothing else. it throbs like a deep burn. if someone shows up at his
door ready to cloister, the robe doesn't embrace their body. three boys died fighting for it, they
all await inside the robe. this robe is not like a potur, a jacket, or a cardigan. it reminds people of
things they couldn’t be. the dervish keeps putting his robe on the past, saying it's his property.
he thinks we owe him everything.
this is why I held love by her hand and took her to the deepest rooms. I did this at night. my
people had carved a place out of the night. my people, who keep golden sorrows in their
saddlebags. when hands tire from fatigue and withdraw, when someone finds less of
themselves in the morning, where childhood hangs on silverberry trees, there rises the night’s
roof. when night falls, the ghosts will laugh.
my dervish has a fortress up on Mount Uludag. I was there once. when the lights came on, a
crocodile would appear on the mountain, and angels would stroke its back. in my dream, I would
paint white walls white. a soldier would lose his voice. I wouldn’t understand the calls to prayer. I
fell silent, and the tale closed. I returned home but couldn't find the silverberries.
dervish dervish!
who will tug on your robe if I'm not there?
won’t you say “well done”?
