My name is Rüzgar.
I go wherever I want.
No wall stops me.
No border holds me back.
I have passed through Azerbaijan,
where the mountains still carry
the echo of war.
I have crossed Türkiye,
moving between old cities
and ancient olive trees
that remember hands that planted them.
I have travelled over Palestine,
where grief hangs in the air
like dust that refuses to settle.
I have flown across Brazil,
over forests that once seemed endless,
watching the green disappear
tree by tree.
I have crossed the United States,
over cities that shine all night
and plains so wide
they swallow the horizon.
Everywhere I go
I see the same story.
I watch them cut the forests
that cooled their ancestors.
I watch them choke the seas
that fed their children.
And still they ask
why the earth grows restless.
So I keep travelling.
Through ruined cities.
Through wounded forests.
Across tired oceans.
And everywhere I go
I carry the same question.
Why do you destroy
the only home you have?
My name is Rüzgar.
