The Butterfly

"Fleeing the terrifying traps of affections / Fleeing from being a mother, from being a wife / Arriving at the loneliness of strange shoes in the cities / To the crimson light upon the mountains" (Gülten Akın)

Women's Day. To some, International Women's Day; to others, Working Women's Day. I want to assert that this day, which carries immense value on the path toward women's liberation, must be guarded against commercial degradation and decay; we must ensure it does not fall into traps, nor can it be confined merely to the concept of being a "woman". It is of vital importance that we carry the women's struggle from our very homes onto the streets and into every sphere of our lives. For the liberation of women is the liberation of every living being of every gender. From butterflies to whales, all females are the womb of this world, its creators. And so is the female of the human race.

Woman... throughout history, kept behind power, in the shadow of power... consumed and eroded without ever being allowed to see the beauty of walking side by side. Torn away from her true essence, crushed beneath a shadow entirely foreign to humanity.

Woman... Harassment, rapes, young girls slaughtered in their childhood; the perpetrators, the detentions, and the unserved sentences; this is how the fires in our hearts grow, and the waters of eras multiply with outcries.

Woman... Passions, those who cannot love, those who love but know it not, those who refuse to listen to their own souls, those consuming a lifetime within a miserable marriage, clinging tightly to the performance of happiness.

Woman... Violence from fathers, violence from siblings, violence from children, violence from husbands. Which one should she recount, for which should she grieve? She spends her days with a chest heavy and overflowing with sorrow.

Kelebek (The Butterfly). This is a song. A song that begins with poetry and dances with melody. A female melody, dedicated to all the butterflies of the earth. Unquestionably dedicated to the female gender, whose soul is bruised by crude touches yet remains profoundly resilient, and to the men who stand as their companions... Just like butterflies, a woman shines in every colour; each hue brings a distinct light, gracing her wings in its own way. If only you would hold them dear, kiss them, but above all, look into their eyes—what colour are their eyes?

Did you know? A woman's eyes are the explicit expressions of resilience, much like the extraordinary vision of butterflies. Sensitive, mindful, delicate, yet fiercely strong... No matter what you do, they always look upon life and whatever befalls them through their inner voice; look closely into those eyes, see that colour. That is the colour of life. The colour that makes us human... The colour of love, of friendship, of sanctuary... Do not wound the women who carry the symphony of their wings in their eyes for a lifetime.

Never think of her as forsaken / How many storms have her eyes witnessed / How many rains have passed through her wings / Her breath knows no fear of death / She never looks back, flying toward eternity / Casting time aside, she reaches her love / How many lifetimes does a butterfly live in a single day / Nobody ever asks what colour her eyes are / How many flowers on this path chase a dream / Nobody ever knows what colour her farewell is

Perhaps one day humanity will understand / Time is the colour of love at every moment / A solitary breath is all that remains of passion / Perhaps one day humanity will see / She never looks back, flying toward eternity / Casting time aside, she reaches her love / How many lifetimes does a butterfly live in a single day / Nobody ever asks what colour her eyes are / How many flowers on this path chase a dream / Nobody ever knows what colour her farewell is

Poem: Yelda Karataş Composition: Canan Sağar