A Dawn

Büşra Demir
3 minutes

Here are my favorite hours. The sun has not yet shown itself, but its arrival is imminent. Dawn There is no sound but the sound of waves, leaves rustling in the wind and crickets. That’s why I can hear my thoughts. I can see my feelings. Who says it’s early in the morning? Far from being blind, it is as if these hours are full of light. Sleep takes so much away from this precious time. Yet this beautiful dawn promises a refreshment, a journey towards its essence.

Birds fly by the sea. A flock of crows with their jet black colors. They all go together. Not a single seagull, sparrow or swallow among them. I think of a story my father told me. One day a neighbor comes to visit my father’s aunt. They ask how they are doing, have a chat. Finally, when the neighbor says, “Let’s meet more often, let’s spend time together,” he points to the birds flying in the sky and says, “Look at these birds, they are all of the same species. Different kinds of birds don’t fly together.

I’m coming back to myself. Maybe that’s why I can’t fly with the crowds. That’s why I approach those who fly with me wondering if we are of the same species and return disappointed. Who knows, maybe there are many others like me who are searching and this is exactly the journey called life.

These times make you swim in a sea of associations. As I think and write, I don’t realize that the darkness has left, but the silhouette on the opposite shore now shows its skirts and hills. And I watch the undulating blue before me again, not knowing why I can’t get enough of it.

A sailboat passes by. He moves from one side of my field of vision to the other, unhurried, calm, silent. Even the trace it leaves behind in the water is delicate, delicate. I’m watching it for a long time. After a while, with all its grace, it slowly leaves my field of vision.

And a majestic yacht passes right in front of it. It takes seconds for him to pass. But he goes away, leaving the sound of the engine in my ears, the wave of his majesty on the shore.

It’s like the mark left by man on man. It is as if she is a beautiful person who takes one’s burden with the grace of a sailboat, without any burden, even with the pleasure and peace that her aesthetic stance gives. And it is as if the yacht, with all its majesty and the dense traces it leaves, is another human being that attracts people, yet exhausts them at the same time.

And maybe both of them are me at different periods of my life. That imposing yacht, I’m in my twenties. Fast, loud, flashy. But now, in my forties, she wants to be that naive sailboat. He wants to be a beautiful person who takes burdens rather than giving them, who brings peace to people with his stance – in fact, with his outlook on life.

Dawn is already over. Yet there is still the silence of sleep. Soon the hustle and bustle of life will start and there will be a lot of people around who cannot hear their inner voice. Maybe I will be one of them again. But I will have the strength and peace of mind of being able to hear and see myself, even if only for a dawn.

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