Caroline Laurent Turunç: “Prelude”

Illustration: Copilot

Dear souls of grace and depth,

Many of you may find yourselves wondering: “In this age, in this century, what place does such a text—one that reaches back into the ancient—truly have?”

Perhaps my words carry the dust of the past. Perhaps they call forth echoes from eras we would rather not remember. And yet, despite all our proud modernity, I believe the role assigned to women today differs far less from that of ancient times than we like to imagine.

And of course, I know this: There are still those who do not wish to witness the full awakening of women. Yes, the woman has awakened—but only to the extent the world has permitted, only within the boundaries it has drawn, only as far as the shadow it allows her to cast.

Not entirely.

For the complete awakening of a woman unsettles the order itself; and questioning the order seldom pleases those who benefit from it.

Thus her light is often dimmed, her voice softened, her steps slowed. Let her awaken, they say—but not too much. Let her grow stronger—but not exceed her appointed limits. Let her see—but not perceive the whole truth.

And so, I write this piece for a single purpose: To awaken not only the woman’s eyes, but her spirit; to speak to every woman whose awakening was left unfinished, and to every ember lying hidden beneath a century of ash.

When Silence Turns to Reckoning — The Woman’s Role

Every silence, in time, collapses beneath its own weight and rises skyward as a scream.

O humanity, O cosmos, O every breathing creature upon the earth—know this:

The fate of the world often sprouts in the quietest of chests, in the single sigh no one hears.

The deep silence that grows in a woman’s heart over years, unnoticed by all, becomes—at an unexpected moment—an ancient awakening powerful enough to shift the darkness of entire ages.

For the moment she realises the light hidden within her wound, she begins to carry within her a fire capable of burning not only her own destiny, but the sediments of centuries.

The world seldom understands this tremor; for it begins not with noise, but with a heavy breath capable of stilling even the sky’s exhale.

In that breath, silence cracks open, darkness retreats, shadows rearrange themselves, and fate bends at last to untie its own age-old knot.

And though no one knows it, senses it, or hears it, the greatest revolution to shape humanity’s future quietly takes root in a woman’s heart.

For when a woman truly awakens, the world can no longer return to its former darkness,

and humanity can no longer slip back into its slumber.

A woman’s awakening is not merely the rise of a truth—it is the rebirth of an age.

When she awakens, the world’s long sleep is shattered forever.

WHEN A WOMAN AWAKENS

Her awakening begins with a deep mirror held to her own being.

For centuries she carried the roles imposed on her in silence, while no one realised that the quiet within her was, in fact, preparation—

for a tremendous awakening.

She spoke with words handed to her;

she described her emotions with concepts shaped by others;

she measured her existence against scales she never built.

And each time, she was found lacking.

Yet none knew that in every supposed lack, the woman was gathering her own truth.

As that truth grew, she grew heavier; as she grew heavier, she deepened; and as she deepened, the forgotten wisdom of the world returned to her.

And one day, when she opened her eyes, she finally turned toward the light that had long been shining yet unseen within her.

The woman awakened.

And the world heard that awakening so profoundly that it was forced to reread its own history.

Her steps may appear silent from afar,

yet an entire age trembles beneath their echo.

For a woman in awakening carries no rage;

rage merely shakes—

but a woman’s awakening transforms.

Her awakening is not fear;

fear flees—

but a woman walks toward life.

Her awakening is not vengeance;

vengeance devours the past—

but a woman births the future.

And at last, she acquires a power capable of turning even her own shadow into light—

the long-suppressed splendour of a force that could never be extinguished.

Justice Taking Root Anew

Justice has been tested most severely in the silence of women.

When a woman awakens, justice must reconsider its every definition.

For the scales of justice have long tilted under the quiet suffering of women, and it took the rising of one woman to reveal this truth.

A mother’s dried tears in the night,

a young girl’s unspoken “no”—bursting within her like a suppressed scream,

the invisible burden carried across a lifetime by an elderly woman—

these were the true measures of justice.

And when a woman awakens, these measures finally speak.

Right is no longer defined by the powerful, but by the wronged.

Justice ceases to be a cold abstraction and becomes a living conscience.

A woman’s awakening is not the announcement “I am here too”;

it is the declaration: “Now, you must be real.”