A Silence That Kills

Adnan says nothing.

In front of my elementary school,
There is a pond.
In a poor neighborhood of Istanbul,
I am standing next to it.

Year 1957.
There is a huge frog in the pond.
Maybe it is not huge,
It looks huge in the water.

I have just started elementary school;
I don't know anything about birth-giving;
I don't know anything about frog eggs.

gut tells me though
Something important is happening,
A black thin string
Coming from the behind of the frog.

The insides of her eyes so concerned
Look through the insides of my eyes.

All of a sudden,
I don't know from where,
The street childreen of neighborhood
Encircling the pond,
With loud voices and laughers
Start throwing - not stones or rocks -
Heavy pieces of earth to the frog

The frog does not move.
She does not try to escape.
She does not come out of the water
To make the terrible frog voice.

The insides of her eyes so concerned
Look through the insides of my eyes.

Year 1994.
In a cozy living room in Boston,
I am reading the news
About Bosnia-Herzogovina.
My Sunday, New York Time routine.

They are killing the children.
I am not in elementary school anymore.
I know what birth giving is.
I don't have an experience, but a sense
How to womb shakes
When the mass of flesh
Pushes itself through
The tunnel of pain.

They are killing the children.
Adnan does not say anything.

 

Adnan Adam Onart
Boston MA, 1997