for all slaughtered the women …
mom said “girls don’t talk too much”
I have not talked when the grown-ups were present
this is how it started
the heaviness of being a woman
my tongue turned red
I got wounded…
I hid my growing breasts
I felt shame
I should not wear a short skirt anymore
my womanhood got hurt
I was wounded…
I was volunteering to become a woman
by bundling up my feelings
thinking that getting married is a cure, I took refuge in it
my flesh got rotten, my dreams exiled
I was wounded…
Now my man was my son
he asked questions
hungry looks focused on my body
when I became a revolted person
nobody wanted to talk to me
I shouted, I did not keep quiet, out of harassment
I was wounded…
Güldünya, daughter of the aunt of my neighbor
she had her hopes with festivity decorations
she died twice,
I died ten times.
they buried small Medine
in Kahta alive
they broke her legs hat walked with men
the broken glass pieces filled my body
I was wounded…
I had so many wounds
I resist even though my name was written dolefully
I turn the knife in my wounds
I am Lokman, I am the cure.
half of life
and half of fight belong to us.
gossip glowers do not bloom without women
I am there part of victory
I am a woman!…
English Translation by Mesut Şenol