“Oh mother!” a rattle, tears and darkness. Blood gushed out, and the stabbed body trembled. “Oh mother!” - heard only by the executioner. Tomorrow the dawn will come and roses will wake up; youth and enchanted hopes will ask for her; the meadows and the flowers will answer, “She left to wash the disgrace.” The brutal executioner will return and meet the people “Disgrace?”, he wipes his knife, “We’ve torn it apart and returned virtuous with a white reputation.” - Nazik Al-Malaika
Kurdish mother with photographs of her lost son and husband. During the 1980s and the 1990s, more than a million Kurds...