7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: When Freedom Barges In (Part 1)

And the Sun told us, my kin…

It is You. She said

I have thought long and hard, she continued

I have searched the world over

I have watched my brother in the darkest night

And it is YOU

Us? We asked, aghast

How is this possible?

How can we hurt each other so?

It must not be…

It cannot be

Us

It is You, she said sadly

Not all of you

But those who hurt you are part of You

They walk among You

Do not look to the skies

Do not search the stars

Do not blame Rain, Thunder and Snow

Blame only

You

Only you can stop this


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: Shards of Ice

It rained needles of ice, my kin, tipped with tears from our Golden One’s eyes…

Stop! We cried.

Please. Stop.

You are our Sun, our Golden One

You are our one and only one

We look to you daily

All night we long for your arrival

Please stop!

As we look for your warmth

We are blinded by shards of ice!

And we cry: how can you do this to us?

Stop!

I cannot! She sobbed

My greatest wish is to stop…

And she wept never-ending rivers of gold that fueled scalding quills of ice


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

The Founder Effect – no. 6

6.

I need to clear my mind. The Amazon is exhausting. It’s like talking with a computer. It perceives my every utterance as a thrust it needs to parry.

But more and more I get a feel for it. The glances of my blows give it shape, relief. I can feel its force there behind the words, the direction it’s coming from. The angles of deflection are telling. Like chipping away at a block of marble.

But who am I to judge? After all, isn’t that the extent language affords? Are any of us more than merely the words issued forth on our behalf? Is there really a there there? Beyond words? Is not being conjured through words? And is not every word of our being an approximation, an approach to the limit, of who we are and not the exact definition, floating and bobbing, never quite one with the current? Perhaps this is the quantum physics of language. That all we are are the traces we leave.

And if genius is measured by the width of our analogies, the Amazon certainly qualifies. It rants constantly, pausing only to eat and drink, a living almanac of irony. Continue reading “The Founder Effect – no. 6”

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: The Constellations

And the Sun looked to her own, my kin,
and saw that they were the worst offenders

This is Shame! She cried

And her rage flared hot white across the blackened Sky

Shame!

I cannot believe it of you, Altair…

Burning so strong, so bright

Is it fair?

Is it right?

Your rays so deadly and unseen in the Night…

You know it is not right

For one such as you to act as you do…

You do it, too… They said

And they were right.

And the Sun lowered herself, and allowed her brother to cloak her from prying eyes.

You cannot hide… They said.

Not one of us can hide… She sighed.


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Song of the Sky: The Sun

And the Sun, our golden one, was distraught, my kin

How is this possible? She cried

As her tears fell in hot flashes across the desert sky…

And it was all desert; and the desert was all

Even my brother is complicit! She moaned

As the Moon glowed pale and cold in the desert sky

And it was all desert; and the desert was all

She looked in vain to the winds:

North

South

East

and West

As they howled hoarsely across the desert plains

Do not bend! The Sun admonished Rain, Thunder and Lightning

Do not lend your might!

You know it is not right…

But they had no choice: they had to weave and strike

To be pawns in a never-ending fight

It will be desert! She cried

It will all be desert; and the desert will be all


Continues…

Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: The Light…

The White

Purified and cleansed

In a fire so bright

It glows White

The White…

Torn apart, subdued

Laid waste, deserted…

Bathed in Light so bright

It glows White

The White

With eyes unseeing

And ears ringing!

Lungs on fire…

And the air…

It glows White

The White

Bent and hobbled

With teeth bleeding

Under the surgeon’s knife

And the Light…

It glows White

The White

No more!

 


Sanem Özdural

7 Dalga: Chakras

Tell us, friend. Tell us: what is the first?
The first wave…

It is the worst, the first.

It is the crown that bursts; the royal teeth

That do their worst.

The purple wreath

of death

Is the first

 

Tell us…friend
We have to know
The second to the worst
Or is it?

The second is Loss

Loss of time

Loss of self

Loss of all that once was…

Lost in a wave as blue as the midnight sky

 

We grow sad…And yet, we Must know!
Even the worst we must know
Tell us…
The third

I cannot breathe!

Air. Please, give me air!

The third wave envelopes me and I am lifted high

Higher into the sky

The bright blue sky

So high

Too high!

I cannot breathe…

 

Tell us, friend!
Quickly, tell us the fourth!
Before you are out of breath…

It breaks my heart, this wave

This fourth wave

Of mourning.

Shrouded in green

Under the crescent moon…

 

Our pain is great!
And yet… we must know
The rest

A punch to the gut!

A ram with yellow teeth

Is the fifth…

Foul and filthy

The rotten seed

 

Friend…It is almost done
Tell us,
Tell us now!
The sixth…

Have you no shame?

The name…

I cannot name

All of the Six!

I am wracked

And broken

By the Six

 

Fear not, friend!
We are here; we are near…
You will never be wracked and broken
by the Six!
Tell us, friend…
The last
But not least…

Seven

Is the number of the Beast.

Red is the color of the last

Red is the color of the Beast…

 


Sanem Özdural

Gelecek Bir Seçimdir – The Future is Choice

 

Turkish | English

Gelecek Bir Seçimdir

Bir dörtyol ağzındasın. Dört seçenek var önünde.
 
İlki seni buraya getiren yol.
 
O yolu seçip geldiğin yere dönmeye çalışabilirsin.
Bu kavşakta kural yok. Ne işaret ne de kılavuz bulabilirsin bu kavşakta.
Sana ne yapmanı, hangi yolu seçmeni söyleyecek kimse yok burada…
 
Seni buraya getiren yolu düşün. Sola döndüğün zaman o yolu hatırla.
Burada her şey farklıdır. Belki yolun kıyısı ağaçlarla süslüdür, geldiğin yolun çıplaklığına kıyasla…
Belki sadece sen biliyorsun bu yolun neye benzediğini.
Belki biri – arkadaşın, sevgilin olabilir – bu yolda senden önce yürüdü.
Belki şimdi orada. Bu yolu onun yolu olarak tanıyorsun.
Senin de yolun olacak mı? Belki. Sade sen biliyorsun.
 
Arkandaki ve solundaki yolları hatırla önündeki yeni yola bakarken.
İleriye bakarken hatırla. Şeffaf bir pencere camından bakar gibi.
Arkanda ne varsa, önündeki yolda da hemen hemen aynılarını görebiliyorsun.
Ama sen bu yoldaki çukurları ve tümsekleri biliyorsun. Değil mi?
Yolun sonunu görüyor musun? Ne kadar uzağı görebildiğini sade sen biliyorsun…
Şimdi dön ve sağına bak…
Göremiyor musun? Doğru, çünkü bu yol ilerideki yol gibi şeffaf değil.
Donuk bir pencere camından bakar gibi… Gözlerini kapat.
Yolunu bulmakta yardımcı olamaz zaten gözlerin.
Ama bu yolun haritası var sende. Hayır, cebinde değil. Oraya bakma. Hiç bakma.
Şimdi görebiliyor musun? Düşündüğünden daha parlak, değil mi?
Bir taslak gibi, ama buna rağmen sağlam ve dayanıklıdır.
Evet, öbür yolların hatıralarını bulabilirsin bu haritada.
Arkandaki, önündeki ve solundaki yolların hepsinin anıları burada.
Ama ne arkan ne önün ne de solundur bu güzergâh.
 
Korkuyor musun?
 
Eğer yardımcı olacaksa, şunu bil ki başkaları da bu yolda yürüdü. Şimdi oradalar.
İnanır mısın, onların haritaları seninkine çok benziyor…
Güneşin, gözle görünmeyen bir yere dövmelenmiş gölgesi gibi.
Onlar da senin gibi gözleri kapalı yürüyorlar bu yolda ara sıra sendeleyerek…
 
Sana bağlı. Bu kavşakta kural yok. Kılavuz da yok.
Gitmen gereken yolu gösterecek kimse yok…
 
Git.


 

Turkish | English

The Future is Choice

You are at a crossroads. There are four paths before you.
The first is the one that brought you here.
You may try to go back if you wish.
There are no rules at this crossroads. There are no signs, no guideposts.
There is no one here to tell you where you should go, what you should do…
 
Think about the road behind you. Remember it as you turn to your left.
Whatever the road behind you is like, this one is different.
Perhaps it is lined with trees, while the other lay bare upon a flat landscape.
Perhaps. Only you know.
Someone – perhaps a friend, a lover – has already taken the road to the left.
Perhaps he or she is there now.
You think of the road to your left as their road. Will it be your road?
Perhaps. Only you know.
 
Remember the road behind you and the road to your left as you look ahead.
It is like looking through a pane of clear glass.
Whatever lay behind you, you can see that it lies ahead, too.
But you know the potholes and the crags in the road that lies before you. Don’t you?
Can you see the end of the road?
Only you know how far you can see…
Now, turn to your right.
You cannot see? No, that is true, for this road is not clear like the road ahead.
Close your eyes.
Your eyes cannot help you find your way on this road.
But you have a map of this road. No, it is not in your pocket. Do not look there.
Do not look.
Can you see it now?
It is brighter than you thought, isn’t it? It is an outline, but solid for all that.
Yes, you can find reminders of all the other roads on this map.
But this road is not the road behind you, the one to your left, or the one dead ahead.
 
Are you afraid?
 
If it’s any help, I can tell you that others have taken this road. They are there now.
Would you believe it, their maps look a lot like yours… tattooed somewhere the eye cannot see,
like the burning shadow of the Sun.
They, too, travel with their eyes closed – at times stumbling…
 
It is up to you.
There are no rules at this crossroads. There are no signs, no guideposts.
There is no one here to tell you where you should go…
 
Go.

Sanem Özdural

An Android Wakes Part 8 : To Kill a Mockingbird

I got the letter this morning from one of the big five. This is the ms they accepted.

To Kill a Mockingbird
Machine wash at 40 degrees on a fast spin.  Wash separately. Iron.

It’s going to be published as a children’s book next year.  They want me to pad it out a bit but essentially they are raving about the idea. This they love – my two fingered salute to them I sent out believing I was about to be turned off for being a crashing failure.  My stories of The Amazing Arctic Sinking Man, OAP Extraction, Finn with a fish swimming in his eye, locusts and rusting submarines, paper bullion – all rejected for this. Continue reading “An Android Wakes Part 8 : To Kill a Mockingbird”

Postcard From The Future #10

Our final postcard from the future comes from Professor Saul Deveraux himself, inventor of the Retro-Temporal acceleration technology being deployed at Geneva’s ‘Even Larger Hadron Collider’ to send messages back in time…

*

I hope you’ve enjoyed the previous nine messages over the last nine months. The same time as the gestation of a human child, perhaps not coincidentally. You see, the Retro-Temporal Postcard Program is very much my baby, my lifetime’s work, albeit so well assisted by thousands of other dedicated scientists, the world over. I thank them all.

Will you people of the early twenty-first century believe that these messages are real? –That we in the 23rd century, really have mastered such incredible technology as to be able to send information back in time to you? As I write, there is no evidence in any of our libraries or history annals that these attempts were successful. But I confidently expect to go to the same data sources tomorrow and find that history has updated itself. Of course it will. But will I know? This paper I write on would have to disappear into thin air, in order for me not to know, and that seems unlikely. So history is going to change and we’re going to see it change, almost instantly before our eyes. How extraordinary. That has never happened before in the history of our planet. Or has it? You see the irony? Continue reading “Postcard From The Future #10”