The Kurdish Freedom Fighter

She was young,
Barely twenty years old,
And quite attractive
With her long silky, black hair
That hung down to her waist,
But what set her apart
Was her feisty spirit
And the flash of her eyes,
As she talked about
The Kurdish people.
She took great pride
In her people’s nobility,
But bristled with anger
At the Turkish government,
And the capriciousness
Of its policies.
The Kurdish people need
Their own country,
Free from the Turks,
Where they can speak
Their own language,
She declared.
She had numerous relatives
Who had been killed
By the PKK insurgents,
Yet she was still proud
Of the others who had joined
Their resistance.
She was newly married
To a man from
Northern Europe,
And the paperwork
Was being processed
For her visa,
And she was excited
To be leaving Turkey.
She was full of fight and fury,
And single minded
Contempt for this country,
Thinking that
It would somehow
Be better where
She was going,
But I cautioned her
That I too was a rebel
At her age,
And everywhere I went,
The battle followed me.
It was only later
That I was able
To make peace with the world
Exactly as it is,
And exactly as it isn’t.
She is at war
With the world,
Not just Turkey,
And she will always
Be running from
One skirmish or another
Until the day
She finally makes peace
With the world.
Yes, it is as if
I was watching myself
Years before,
Pugnaciously confronting
The obvious injustices
And the inequities of life.