The Monday After the Ashes
Sidar Sevimli
22.02.2026
81
One February morning in 1999, the hero (the poet) wakes up and decides to leave behind the disappointments and betrayals he has experienced in the past. He destroys all his belongings and traces of the past, sells his house, and moves to a new neighborhood. With this radical change, he experiences a spiritual cleansing; he wakes up with the morning call to prayer, worships, and finds peace in simplicity. The story ends with the poet choosing to be happy without losing his true self and waiting for a "muse" for the new poems he will write.
The year was 1999, the month was February... On a Sunday, the poet opened his eyes to the world once again. It was as if he were saying, "I've woken up to this disgraceful theater again." Slowly, everything he had forgotten came back to him, and he looked back: as if he were responsible and guilty for everything he had lived through until today, as if everything had been left to him and the others had gone on with their lives... But did the others have no guilt, no sin? If those who didn't keep their word, who always left him halfway, had even a shred of conscience, he thought, "Would I have gone through all this?" And today, he would say goodbye to everything; he would be a completely different person now. Because tomorrow is Monday; the beginning of a new week, perhaps the beginning of a new life, who knows...
Then he burned and destroyed everything from the past, reducing it to ashes; he threw the ashes out the window. The ashes flew away, leaving nothing behind. The poet sells his house to the real estate agent who always wanted it and moves to another neighborhood. He does everything on the same day; because he believes it will cause Monday to live a completely different life. He struggles, and everything works perfectly. When he finishes fixing up his new home, it's half an hour before midnight. The poet runs, gets into bed, and sleeps. He hasn't gone to bed this early and peacefully in a long time.
He wakes up suddenly to the sound of the call to prayer while sleeping without a care in the world. He jumps out of bed, gets ready, performs ablutions, and makes it to the mosque. He prays with the congregation; after prayer, he prays for hours. He gets piping hot pides from a bakery called "bread boat"; he prepares himself a breakfast worthy of poets. After enjoying his breakfast to his heart's content, he starts reading a book. At that moment, a poem comes to mind, and he begins to write. He realizes that if he had faced the realities he had been running from from the very beginning, he would have been happy from the start. But no matter how late the poet did this, he had lost nothing of his poetry or his humanity. But what had those who made the poet experience these things lost? First and foremost, their humanity...
Most importantly, it was the reality that no one would value them like a poet anymore, that they would never encounter someone like that again. When the day came, they would all seek out the poet again, but the poet would have already begun writing a poem that would make him happy. How do we know? Perhaps he is waiting for the "muse" who will inspire him to write that poem, and when he finds her, he will write it. Maybe one day we'll even have the chance to read that poem. The important thing is not to lose something of ourselves. Those who don't lose themselves win; because if you're not "you," winning doesn't matter much.
Then he burned and destroyed everything from the past, reducing it to ashes; he threw the ashes out the window. The ashes flew away, leaving nothing behind. The poet sells his house to the real estate agent who always wanted it and moves to another neighborhood. He does everything on the same day; because he believes it will cause Monday to live a completely different life. He struggles, and everything works perfectly. When he finishes fixing up his new home, it's half an hour before midnight. The poet runs, gets into bed, and sleeps. He hasn't gone to bed this early and peacefully in a long time.
He wakes up suddenly to the sound of the call to prayer while sleeping without a care in the world. He jumps out of bed, gets ready, performs ablutions, and makes it to the mosque. He prays with the congregation; after prayer, he prays for hours. He gets piping hot pides from a bakery called "bread boat"; he prepares himself a breakfast worthy of poets. After enjoying his breakfast to his heart's content, he starts reading a book. At that moment, a poem comes to mind, and he begins to write. He realizes that if he had faced the realities he had been running from from the very beginning, he would have been happy from the start. But no matter how late the poet did this, he had lost nothing of his poetry or his humanity. But what had those who made the poet experience these things lost? First and foremost, their humanity...
Most importantly, it was the reality that no one would value them like a poet anymore, that they would never encounter someone like that again. When the day came, they would all seek out the poet again, but the poet would have already begun writing a poem that would make him happy. How do we know? Perhaps he is waiting for the "muse" who will inspire him to write that poem, and when he finds her, he will write it. Maybe one day we'll even have the chance to read that poem. The important thing is not to lose something of ourselves. Those who don't lose themselves win; because if you're not "you," winning doesn't matter much.
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