My!
I am a poet, I am a scientist, I am a reader, I am a neologist, honey. If I want, I can write new dictionaries to describe you. I can describe you in heavens, and I can paint you in starry nights.
I can put you in flowers and pour you in rains. I can write you in letters and sing you in songs. I can have you in sunshine and moonlight and in the chandeliers of this sky.
But my love, that’s the point—I am a possessive lover, and I don’t even want people to know that you exist. I will be envious if they see you in my words and poems, and God forbid if they fall in love with you.
Ey benim! (O, my)
Ey, ruhumun yarısı, gözlerimin ışığı, gönlümün baharı, varlığımın nefesi, ruhumun içi, her şeyim. (O, half of my soul, the light of my eyes, the spring of my heart, the breath of my existence, the inside of my soul, my everything.)
I can integrate you as the nucleotides of my dreams, the foundation upon which my universe constructs itself. I can code you into the neural circuits of my mind, firing with every thought of you like synapses igniting in endless repetition. I can name you the catalyst of my existence, the irreversible reaction that turns everything I was into everything I am becoming.
I can call you the event horizon of my thoughts, where time stretches infinitely in your presence, where my heart cannot escape the pull of you. I can place you in the capillaries of my being, flowing like oxygen, like the very breath that sustains me.
I can let you settle into my bones, like calcium strengthening every part of me that would otherwise crumble. I can call you the photon that collides with my skin, the light that my cells crave for like sun-starved leaves. I can let your soul diffuse into mine, not merely as presence but as essence, saturating every part of me until there is no distinction between us.
Ey benim, ey gönül yoldaşım! (O my, o my companion of the heart!)
If I must describe you, I will etch you into the cosmic microwave background, a trace of your presence embedded into the very structure of time—Relique. I will encode you into the double helix of existence, where every turn in the spiral tells a story of you—Inevitability.
I will map you onto dark matter, invisible yet undeniably shaping everything around it—Umbrance. I will write you into the periodic table of my essence, an element more fundamental than hydrogen, more precious than gold—Crème de la crème.
I will call you the sunlight filtering through a dense forest—Komorebi. I will name you the first raindrop that breaks a long drought—L’éveil de la pluie. I will make you the chemobiological equilibrium my soul always shifts toward—Homeostasis.
I will carve you into the dendrochronology of my heart, each ring a year I have loved you—Perennity. I will let you settle into my bloodstream like an unclassified element, one that no scientist can name, no poet can capture—Anamnesis.
But my love, I will not let the world decode you like astrophysicists decipher the mysteries of the cosmos. I will not let doctors study you like an anomaly of the human heart. I will not let poets analyze you like an ancient manuscript, searching for meaning between the lines.
Ey benim! (O, my)
You are not a theorem to be proven, not a formula to be solved, not a sonnet to be examined, not a body to be autopsied, not a research paper to be meta-analyzed, not an organ to be dissected, not a star to be gazed at, not a goal to be aimed at, yet you are everything to me.
You are the secret of my universe, the unknown variable in my equation, the discovery I will never publish. And I will not let another scientist, another dreamer, another poet claim you in their name.
— Sadia Hakim | from the Mehrsprachig (Multilingual Musings) Series by Sadia Hakim, Title: ey benim! (O, my)
