Every part of me aches.Racked by a nameless fever or rage, despair, hopelessness.
I was infected by tears, mutilated bodies, lives torn asunder and ashes of hope.
Hope that were dashed against walls by terror, guns, knives, bombs.
I look at you gasping for breath now, clutching , grasping for composure and it breaks my heart.
I walked your cobbled streets, walking to nowhere, breathing in the industriousness and determination of those fishermen selling hamsi every day. Served with just the right drizzle of salt and smiles.
My heart rose and fell with the tides of the Bosphorous.
My eyes glazed with wonder as they swallowed the grand mosques and minarets dotting your Crimson skies
How my aching feet danced away with those little childrenin the streets of Grand Bazaar.
Rows upon rows of twinkling chandelier studded lanes lighting up sparkles of hope.
My hands are now still. Sometimes wringing in wretched frustration, sometimes in prayer.
Look what they have done to you my poor darling.
Those warm smiles , embraces and chatter have dissolved into tears and are flowing away, turning your shores red.
Let our prayers, memories and love be the raincoat that shields you from this storm of hate.
Let them lash, let them rage and spew hatred outside.
They will never get to your golden soul, but one day the world will get to them. And they will have nowhere to hide.