When I was little
It was my first day of school
my mother braided my hair
and supplied me with papers and pens
The first picture I drew...
was your picture... Chechenya.
* * *
I was waiting for my father every day
to jump into his arms
"let me touch the ceiling," I begged him
The moment he lifted me on his palm
was a moment mixed with joy, happiness and laughter.
My dream grew, and one day
I begged him, "let me touch the stars"
my father smiled and said: "that I cannot do"
in my childish words I answered: "I will do it."
* * *
I played the Queen of the Caucasus
I played the game of power
with my little neighbors
We ornamented you, Chechenya,
we borrowed the stars from the sky
the flowers on their blooming days
the colors of the butterflies
the laughter of the children
and made you the Eden of the Earth.
* * *
I shared with my grandmother her warm home
and listened with amazement
which gave me more joy than those
of the lion in the jungle
or Peter and the wolf.
* * *
When I first knew the image of God
to the endless power
which makes everything else diminutive
I prayed
neither for health or wisdom
nor for riches and glory
but for the freedom for Chechenya.
* * *
When love touched my heart
neither the storms nor the rain
could stop me from crawling
in the loneliness of the night
and running to you
to throw my head on your shoulder
and whisper in your ear
how much I love you... Chechenya.
* * *
I heard the sad songs of birds
singing in their cages
but my trees were full of birds
singing happily... the song of freedom.
* * *
In the bustle of the day
I opened my bag
it was unlike the bags of other women
full of beauty boxes
but with pieces of my freedom letters
to you... Chechenya.
* * *
I was not born a poetess
but a fountain of words
rushed from my pen
to weave a poem of love to Chechenya.
* * *
Chechenya...
Strangers destroyed you
but your anthem is alive:
"At night the wolf howled
we were born.
In the morning the lion roared
we were given our names.
In the eagle's nest
we were nursed."
* * *
They killed your children
but the mother is alive
she applauds her child
and sings to him:
"Show me the Chechen warrior."
He takes the first step in his life
stands on his toes,
draws the air into his little mouth,
raises his arms like an eagle,
and dances freely like a warrior.
* * *
Chechenya...
Whenever strangers cross you...
and smash you under their feet
you rise again
like a wild flower
growing from the rock
your head high in the sky
and your roots deep in the soil
beauty of dew drops on your face
freedom beating in your veins
and the crown of justice
sparkling on your head.
You are never defeated
even if you are crushed.
That is why we are proud of you.
September 25 - October 25, 1995
Ferdous Shahbaz-Adel, of Chechen background, is a graduate student in economics at the University of Illinois-Chicago.
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The Sarmatian Review
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