Deep Red Glow Lost and Found

By Siettie


Over the bridge there is a deep red glow

lost in the grim light of the day

I was born in Germany, says the taxici

Nerelısın, he asks again

Far away, I said, Furthest I've ever felt

Ama there was she, İstanbul

Mad, glorious city, beautiful

Do you miss Stuttgart?

Ya... alıştım artık, dedi. Aşılar bize

öldurecek mı, sizcede?

İçindeyiz yani ve hastalık olmadı

Çok şükür, neyse


An artist with a baby stroller, 

my Ukranian friend settled free

A life that couldn't have been,

Ama olmuş, pandemic heavy

What would my daughter know

of the old world we used to live

they are and will all be born into 

the new normal their yeni gercekliği

Isn't it funny what did we know

Nothing. We sorted apples kırmızı

sarı - Erzurum, Elmalı,

she was born in Eylül

Yanakları maşallah

elmalar gibi


Kış daha olmadı mı?

It is sun strong in the crisp afternoon

By six it is dark and I am near blind

I am layered deeply underneath

Rain and fabric like the slugs

along the walls outside windows

If they had homes on their backs

Apples ve books, glitter in their tracks

A bus sweeps past, not a lira left

I am to be stranded, the card reader

glares red, sağanak yağmur oluyor

Hadi gidelim, the kind şofor gestures

Along the highway towards the ferries

it rained the last remaining youth

of my memories of the city


A lifetime ago she sat by the ferries

Lilies in her bag, five

for the price of four, said the gypsy,

Bi hediye senin için, dedi,

autumn sunlight drowning by the kıtapcı

Terrace, seagulls, it was the first time

she resisted the devils, ama sonra kabul etti,

ama sonra korona ya bir cin gibi diyorlar

Tonight it rained no simit sellers

in sight no chance for tosts

Gone is her favorite gazoz

Outside, the vapur sweeps in

sturdy, it is their İstanbul after all

There is no upending them

A little cup Şehitlari marks in

siyah, sarı, beyaz, kırmızı

The boat tips a bit, new city side


Over the bridge there is a deep red glow

found in the bleak darkness of the night

I was born in England, says the immigrant

Nerelisin, he teases, a child-like merağı

Close, I said, Closest I have ever been

Ve there was he, in İstanbul

In the mad, glorious city, handsome

Do you miss Birmingham? Yes...

biraz, dedi. Aşılar bize

öldurecek mı, sizcede?

There are worse things

than death and the devils

Yet here we are, neyse.


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A Singaporean born and bred, Siettie always believes in the symbiotic pairing of Art and Literature, and has been drawing, painting and writing for as long as she can remember. She has taught art professionally for the last seven years, both in Singapore and Istanbul – whose light, love and melancholy she finds endlessly bewitching. She frequently makes paintings and pens poems surrounding this experience that combines both personal and public spaces.

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