I don't know how to write
Do I think up sorrow
Do I talk about fights
Or pen about tomorrow
And it's hopeful delights

Do I document events
About my in-typical life
Or do I talk about life's expense
And nice things about my wife
Do I tell how the moment was intense

How do I write
Please teach me
I want to join this fight
No matter the degree
I want to shine my light

A warrior has no birthday
Just the day he dies
He cares not where you go
He knows where he is from

A warrior has no fear
Blood wears no shame
Never hungry, never full
War always sober

A warrior is alone
This you all know
Confined by design
Ever invisible in time

You emerge from the earth
To sleep with your dreams
Avoiding the thought
A warrior you are not

Don't think me like the others
It's not present in my will
To have it all be tranquil
I wait patiently for my turn
For everything to burn
For it is in the fight
I truly am alight
For what I need
Is for them to bleed
So don't confuse my calm
Or get ready to meet my palm
That isn't like the others

in the stillest moments of the night,
when the only company i have
are broken pencils and broken thoughts
and the only light in my vision
is my laptop, the blankness
taunting me,
i have an indescribable urge
to prove myself.

my soul, that space in my chest,
tells me to fight.
fight what? where? i ask,
wisps of my hair twining
between my tired fingers.

(my fingers are tired; of writing, of
those moments when
you can't envision your future
so you assume it's dead.)

that space in my chest replies,
quiet and determined:
fight the voices
in your ear,
telling you each and every way
you'll amount to nothing.
fight them, and win
simply because
you can.
fight expectations
prove those who
told you each and every way
you'll amount to nothing
wrong.
come out on top.
laugh in their faces.
prove you can fight. prove you can last.

prove you can win.

My mommy made a promise when I was young. She told me that she’d do everything to protect me, that she’d do everything to keep me safe. She swore with all her heart and strength that she’d fight for me with all her life.

She did fight with her best.

She fought with her all.

She gave it all she’s got.

She did manage to push back all my tears just before they would fall; sometimes they even climb back to hiding behind when she smiles. Even sobs turn to laughter at her presence.

Heck, I never felt down. She kept keeping me up.

She fought the winning fight. Beaten away sadness, and boxed out regret, she made shame feel sorry. I never even knew doubt, of course because I was sure she was there for me.

I never knew any counter weapon that could ever out power her smile, or her hugs or her forehead kisses –nothing could ever beat her forehead kisses.

She won ‘til the very end.

Then she lost.

I guess it’s kind of too ironic now. I hated it with all my heart before.

I hated the fact that when my protector disappeared, I was left bare for every new stranger, sadness… regret… shame… doubt…

All the tears that she kept pushing back, they finally escaped.

I didn’t even have any idea before that there’s this pool of raining kept up at the surface of my wrists just waiting to be freed—

I hated her.

I hated her for always winning.

I hated her for always trying so hard.

I hated her for fighting—

Ironic is it not? Now here I am making that same promise to you.

Seeing you cry so much, so devilishly much, I couldn’t really help it. I couldn’t help but remember all the times I cried without my mommy smiling to hush me; I couldn’t help but recall all the tears that fell from my eyes then, how I waited, crying, how I prayed crying, how I foolishly tried to fake all my smiles for the first few  months, still crying… Just vainly waiting for her to stop my tears from falling.

I couldn’t help but stop it.

It was all that I could do. It was the best that I can do.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

I swear that I’d do everything to protect you. I’ll do everything to keep you safe. I swear with all my heart and soul that I’d fight for you with all my life.

And, my son, I’ll never leave you alone.

I’ll never let another tear pass through your eyelids again, neither will I let another sob from your throat, no, now you’re with me, I won’t let this leukemia I passed along hurt you anymore.

This is the only thing she taught me to do.

Smile.

Hug.

Kiss your forehead.

At least I fought— How I hugged you managed to muffle the deafening beep of your oscillator…

I fought with everything I had.

I fought with all my heart and my strength like my mommy did.

I kept all the tears back inside your eyelids just when they are about to fall. Not even a single drop of blood escaped your wrists too. I think I was able to push back all the shame and regret and doubts in your heart? I hope I did.

I won against fear, at least. I managed to see you smile one last time but—

—I fought ‘til the very end—

Then I lost.

Take your sword, let’s fight for democracy,
Blame the terrorists, say no to autocracy,
I wish there was no room for hypocrisy,
Hey… Wait… This is American philosophy.

We are monitored, we are safe,
Terrorists are captured, or deal is made?
We see a new target to detonate,
There was a kid, ups… just mistake.  

Mr. Trump is listening to your I-phone,
You can reach him by saying: “hey clown”,
This is not the purpose, you were born,
İgnorance of what you are fighting for.

Stockholm early evening.
She was with him
walking the City's streets.

A fight broke out
between two men nearby.

She screamed and hid
behind him.

He took note
and felt a poem
coming on.

The two men
circled each other
shouting out
in foreign tongue.

Benny moved
as the men moved
and she walked behind him
calling out "Stop fighting."

One had a knife
he had produced
from a pocket.

She screamed.
Benny took note
of the knife type
and how the man
held it and passed it
from hand to hand
like a conjuror's trick.

A crowd gathered
and voices called out.

The men circled
each other more.

A police car siren
droned in
and the men
dispersed in the crowd
and out of sight.

The police came
and the crowd spread out
revealing nothing.

Benny had his poem in mind
and she clutched his arm
with a sense of alarm.