I walk along the green pathways of the cemetery, from where the patches of a cloudy skyare visible through the sycamore and willow trees. I watch row after row of marble tombstoneswith framed pictures of young soldiers who died with a promise of an eternal life in heaven.Groups of black-dressed mourners splash water on their faces from the glorious fountain in themiddle of the square. The crimson water cascades out of an immense tulip figure in the memoryof the red blood of the young who lost lives for the country at war with Iraq. They are

shahid,

the martyred, the honored.The air is cool and filled with the verses of the Koran coming from the loudspeakers over the blooming plaza. A mild wind blows the green-white-red national flag. I walk the entirelength to the end of the cemetery, where a line of elevated, green cypress trees end and the dirtroad begins. No taxis or buses pass this point; an abandoned, hushed field lies on the horizon.As I near this deserted place with no trees or green shrubs, my kneesweaken. I look carefully for the signs my brothers have left here to find Mohammad. I know I am endangeringmy life. Only the mothers are allowedin this part of the field, on Fridays. My mother holds my passport and the plane tickets to Istanbul. She begged me and got my word not to go to thegraveyard, but I cannot leave this land without saying my final goodbye to my brother.I kneel at his grave, a nameless, fractured, rectangular cement slab surrounded by brownweeds, among hundreds and hundreds of other nameless scattered graves. I pour rosewater over his grave and cover the surface with pink and white rose petals and orange blossoms I have picked from once my grandmother’s garden. I have not talked to God or whomeveris out theresince the day I learned of Mohammad’s execution. I try to say a prayer, but my heart is nolonger a place for his worship. I do not plead for his justice. I leave the praying to mygrandmother and the cursing to my mother. I choose to cry, loud and bitter. I know it isforbidden to cry on someone’s grave, for one who has been hanged and buried in the middle of