The Fire He Lit Poem by Dorukhan Baris Oguzcan

He stood in the ashes, a man torn in two,
A father, a seeker, but lost in his view.
His hands once so gentle, now trembling with rage,
A storm in his heart, locked deep in a cage.

They took what he loved, they shattered his world,
The laughter, the warmth—like leaves they were swirled.
His mind screamed for justice, for blood to be paid,
Yet shadows misled him, and love was betrayed.

Not them—no, not them—their hands weren't stained,
Yet fury, once loosed, can never be tamed.
He saw their faces, familiar yet blurred,
His own flesh and blood—yet vengeance still stirred.

A whisper, a doubt, a crack in his chest,
But wrath is a fire—it consumes all the rest.
He struck, and they fell, like echoes in mist,
Not strangers, not demons—his own he had missed.

Now silence surrounds him, cold and unkind,
A man who sought justice but punished the blind.
He screams to the heavens, but none hear his cries,
For vengeance, once wielded, sees love as a lie.

Dorukhan Barış Oğuzcan