I Am

By Maira Tungaratova
From Kazakhstan I come today to class,
A little known country in Eurasia
That spans across vast lands of Central Asia
To peaks of Tengri, desserts, and the steppes.
I am a Kazakh woman, so by nature
I take the fate and ride it on a horse
From Soviet youth memories I lost
To independence and the new beginnings.
I realized much later what I lived,
Who told my people how to speak or think,
How treasures were destroyed and burned alive,
How customs were betrayed, forever trampled.
The Kazakhs were nomadic people
Translated as the independent spirit
A wanderer, a man of land
Rolled over by the tractors in the end.
The silky grass and poppy fields
Were buried in the name of the people
Who ended up surviving or disappearing
Behind the walls, the winds of the GULAG.
Clean waters and the rare birds
Polluted, suffocated by the weapons
And tried again by spaceship battles
Inside Vostok to journey into space.
Despite the sufferings of ethnic Kazakhs

They welcomed prisoners and enemies afar.

Providing food, and shelter, sharing clothes
And overcoming famine of Siberia.
While helping to preserve, protect the others
We lost what was so sacred to our lives:
The customs, the language, and the singing
That used to hold a dear place to us.
Today I stand on giants shoulders
On peoples suffering, great loss, and sacrifice
I stand on land, on my land that was trampled
Where we became oppressed and mortified.
This isnt a story of how to be a victim
Or that were helpless in the face of the dark.
I just want to commemorate the bravery and
kindness of people
That have remained throughout the centuries
To pass on to my land of steppes, and mountains,
and desserts,
The moon, the yurts, the singing of my Mom,
To cradle under the Tengri sky
Reminding us all of treasures and goodbyes.