I'm to Be the Sea

A Poem + Reflections on What Does Home Mean

I swim from shore to shore. 
There is no way out.
I'm drowning.
I'm screaming.
I'm crying.
I'm surrendering. 
I'm accepting.
This is where I belong.
I let, with every depth, part of my soul free.
I'm to be the Sea.

Immigrant Tuğba

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A while ago, I collaborated with Lauren Sauder. She did a beautiful oil-based print on cotton paper as part of her collection, The Water Holds, and asked writers to collaborate with her. I wrote a poem for her beautiful print. I think this poem has caused me to cry the most out of all those I’ve ever written. Only sometime after, I made the connection with so many refugees coming on boats via the Mediterranean Sea and drowning as no country would accept them. The day I wrote this poem was one of those days where feelings of not belonging were coming up strongly. Reflecting led me to the ocean, as that is the only place anyone who doesn’t belong can go. The irony, though, is that territorially speaking, the oceans belong to no one, but that doesn’t stop countries from exploiting and trying to own parts of the oceans for their own agenda.  

I’ve also decided to share this poem with my readers, as it’s more relevant now than ever. Germany’s right-wing party AFD is getting stronger and stronger. The German Prime Minister Olaf Scholz is on the cover of Der Spiegel with a very triggering photo reminiscent of Nazi posters, and what was even more triggering was the accompanying headline saying, “We have to deport people more often and faster.” Additionally, with ever-increasing Islamophobia in Germany, especially with the recent attacks on so many mosques, I do fear for my future in this country. I did, a long time ago, understand that having a passport of a country doesn’t make you feel more accepted or less in danger from right-wing extremists. In 1933, the German Government revoked German citizenship for tens of thousands of German Jews, as well as persons seen as political opponents. A passport is not a guarantee for anything, it may be an official document, but it’s also a document that can easily be revoked if History repeats in this country with its right-wing party AFD gaining more and more votes. Surrounded by all these things, emotions, and thoughts, my home, Berlin, doesn’t feel stable anymore. Yet again, I realise that there is no home for some people. Home never existed, or there was home, but from one day to the next, you are suddenly homeless. And I keep returning to this poem where I see myself swimming from shore to shore without a way to get out. I feel stuck. All I can do is drown and surrender to the ocean, a place that connects rather than separates people and cultures — and probably the only home for me and many others who have no home in this world. 

I did ask myself in the past few days, what does home mean to me? And the first word that appeared in my mind was safety. Home has never been a country or city for me. It’s always been a feeling. When I moved back to Germany, it was never about returning home. It’s Berlin I moved to because Berlin made me feel safe. Honestly, I do not know what is next for me if things escalate more in Germany. I don’t feel at home either in Turkey or Greece. I would love to retire one day in the Mediterranean as I think I have a powerful connection to that part of the world. No matter where I was born, lived, or will be living in the future, deep down, I feel very connected to the Mediterranean. In my last days on this earth, I would like to live closer but very secluded to the world's madness on Mediterranean soil, maybe on an island. Who knows! 

Well, that is it for now, but I will continue sharing whenever more things come up in the hope my thoughts resonate with some of you out there. And remember, whatever or whoever your home is, I hope you hold onto the meaning and feeling of it tightly. No matter our definition, we all deserve to have a home! And if you feel like contemplating, maybe ask yourself: What does home mean to me? 

With love, your friend, Tuğba