I fell as a tear from your eye,
Then became a kiss upon your cheek.
I flowed from your skin, drop by drop,
Through these years we lived, now torn apart.
If I’m leaving, I have my reasons.
Even the journals of memories have yellowed.
I am lost, weary, worn…
My pale-skinned beloved,
See, I’ve become like you:
Not just because of the white in my hair,
But from the ends of my fingers,
Clinging to the last of what remains,
From my hollowed-out, sunken temples.
“You’ll come back,”
“Still, turn and look one last time!” you plead,
Your eyes almost begging.
But you know the truth:
I cannot return.
There is no return from death.
I will love you forever,
One day you will smile again, you’ll see!
Perhaps you’ll buy yarn from the yarn-seller,
And knit something for the grandchildren.
Perhaps you’ll buy roses from the gypsy at the bus stop,
Place them in a vase, as if I had brought them,
And set them by the window I always sat near,
Remembering me with love.
“My love,” I’ll whisper,
While standing beside you, beside my wife,
Having brought heaven to rest at your feet…
I’ll shout, “I’m here! I’ve returned!
You were right!”
But alas, spirits are silent,
Even when they linger by your side,
You will not hear me.
So, to cut it short,
Let me confess this to you:
“I loved you, my woman,
I loved you so much.
And yet, I scold myself,
Wishing I had loved you more,
Had turned more pages of our story.”
Now my breath slows, my body weakens.
My fire cools.
The room is icy,
Even in the middle of summer.
Hold my hands, let them clasp yours.
What life could not part,
Will death?
Even if my soul leaves my body,
Know this, my love: I have found eternal peace.
We are an epic,
Every moment etched with tears and laughter,
An untold legend.
Our victories never recorded,
Nor our losses.
One day,
When you catch the scent of a rose where I am not,
You will know—
I was always by your side.
Ah, my beloved, my unreachable,
The one my soul has craved for thirty years!
This is our ending, the curtain falls.
There’s no cure for death in this life,
Nor for the grief of my soul on this side.
Beril Yabar
**”A Love Worthy of an Epic”**
This Valentine’s Day, I want to celebrate the kind of love that transcends time, space, and even death—the love my parents shared. They were married for 30 years, building a life full of memories, laughter, and devotion. Though my father passed away, their love remains eternal, an invisible thread connecting them across worlds.
I wrote this poem, **“Aşkımızın Destanı” (The Epic of Our Love) ** as a tribute to them—a celebration of their journey together. It’s not a story of loss, but of resilience, commitment, and the beauty of a love so strong it becomes its legacy.
This poem is for my mom, our family’s heart, and my dad, whose presence we feel every day. May their story inspire us to cherish the people we love a little more and honor the unbroken bonds.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all—my love in all its forms light your way.
