Witnessing a resurrection with 4 generations together

The exceptional Poet, who devoted his life, his word, his struggle to the revival of a society over which the soil of the dead had been spread, has also departed to the Truth, to be resurrected on the great day when all generations will be resurrected and their deeds weighed.

In this life, in which he felt and lived like an exile from his Most Beloved, his ultimate aim was always to end this exile and to experience the great moment of reunion in the most beautiful way. In return, his cause was to be, in this world as well, the forerunner, the spokesman, the poet of a revival.

The apparent contradiction of making revival one's cause while at the same time experiencing dying before dying in this world kept him in constant unease, in vigilance and sensitivity.

Everyone speaks of the cause, but every word you expend for this cause, every step you take, every meeting you hold draws to you, faintly, a position, a rank, a power. This position, this rank, this power also turns into a tempting trial for everyone who does not bear this unease, who does not feel it to the marrow. It is of course not impossible for a man of a cause to come out of this trial safe and sound, but it is very difficult.

Before this trial, depending on the level of sincerity, a person's withdrawing entirely, entering with precautions taken, or plunging in entirely with excessive self-confidence creates serious differences, signatures, traces among people. Piety is of course not refusing to enter because there is danger in the matter, not refusing to walk because the roads are muddy, but entering with one's trousers rolled up, taking measures that will prevent the mud from clinging.

In this respect, the ways in which Sezai Karakoç lived this exile of the world left no room for any criticism, and he told his own story leaving a sense of perfected beauty and appreciation. He adopted a path of piety that did not try to convert even the esteem, appreciation and affection he accumulated from the struggle he waged into a power, a gain. This perhaps also kept him from emerging as a movement leader. Though he founded and led a party, his expectation of that party was never to compete with the existing political parties.

To raise the generation of revival, he scattered seeds of words onto the soil of poetry and literature. But what gave them their real strength was that those words came from within an utterly authentic life. For he was not one of those show poets who do not say what they do not do, who do not believe what they say. He lived the hardest life a mortal can live not as if out of stubbornness but "as a free choice" that opens a person to the oceans of true happiness.

THE DIGNIFIED FREEDOM OF ONE WHO WANTS NOTHING

The poet, who expected nothing from anyone, who coveted no one's praise or reward, and who in this state knew the secret of being free and independent of everyone, still opened up like a plane tree of compassion ready to give everyone whatever came from his heart. That is, there was no trace in him of the cynical indifference that wanting nothing from anyone can lead to.

By not giving a penny for the world, he showed the possibility and potential of being master over the world. Perhaps not everyone could see this mastery he showed, but the generations who rushed to see him off on account of his death made this mastery very visible.

Selahaddin E. Çakırgil expressed it very well: "Brother Sezâi neither made any political promise to these masses, nor spoke gilded words to rouse them.. He simply expressed his faith and thought in words shaped in the crucible of his poet's soul, and made the most sensitive strings of their spiritual worlds vibrate."

At Sezai Karakoç's funeral there were people from 4 generations. This alone was like a manifestation of the miracle of revival that the Exalted Lord of Majesty has in fact always been showing us. All generations, with their X's, Y's and Z's, who, deceived as they were, had buried many values and principles.

Our Lord, who produces firewood from green leaves, our Lord, who repeats to us every year the revival with a spring after every winter, is surely able to revive again his creatures, whom he created from nothing, even if they have turned to dust. Even if people have fallen into heedlessness and misguidance, even if they have forgotten the One who created them and, by deifying things that bring them neither benefit nor harm, have formed the soil of the dead, revival is true in this world too.

FROM THE GENERATION OF ASIM TO THE GENERATION OF REVIVAL

Those who read the life story of Sezai Karakoç are learning these days that he began his writing and poetry life in Büyük Doğu. However, as Mahmut H. Akın expresses in the file "A 85th Birthday Tribute to Sezai Karakoç" of Tezkire Magazine (issue 68, 2018), both his world of thought and his spirit and personality are closer to Mehmet Akif Ersoy, whom he never met directly, than to Necip Fazıl Kısakürek, and stand in more of a continuity with him, of course with some natural differences.

Mehmet Akif Ersoy was trying to keep alive a collapsing Islamic state, and was trying to place on "the generation of Asım" the mission of keeping alive a civilization in its death throes. With his word, his poetry, his struggle, but most importantly with his humility, his sincerity, the magnificent consistency between his faith and his word, and the sense of appreciation and beauty that this consistency leaves in a person.

Sezai Karakoç, on the other hand, was trying to express the mission of a "generation of revival" to raise up again an Islamic ummah over which an age, an interregnum had passed.

What was common to both was in any case the magnificent consistency between their lovely words, which weave and build worlds, and their deeds.

The world keeps a separate dwelling for their poetic words, and in that dwelling generations find a separate tranquility for themselves. Poetry opens up the miracle of the word like a verse. It describes truth, experience, life in such a way that you perhaps could not live even the reality you are in so vividly and feelingly.

I say all this without referring specifically to any of his poems. Both these days enough words of his poetry have been poured into people's hearts as a kind of ongoing charity, and everyone is taking from his different poems their share, as much as their share.

So he too has died, the poet of revival... What remains in this dome is a pleasant echo, and that echo too is in fact mortal. What remains is only the Face of the Lord of Majesty. The Beloved, the most Beloved, who causes to die and brings back to life, who informs us of death and revival by showing them to us in our lives repeatedly with endless examples...