Tagged “Family and Generations”

A Bed for the Wretched

A Stone Too Is Soil

My Village

From a young age I loved This village In its irrigation channels I grew up Playing in the water And when the sun came out From behind the mountain Barefoot yet happy I welcomed it And when dawn softly broke At the edge of the village It was the start of an endless Summer day Bread and salt we ate But like little children We asked nothing We had freedom Riding on my little donkey In the cool ...

We Arrived in Canada

On the fourth of March I left the village And went to Athens From there I would come here And I would have a fine time My cabin was down in the depths On the Queen Frederica Three others and myself Locked in like mice We stopped in Naples It was the first stop Up to there we had a good time It still hadn’t hit us yet When we left Gibraltar Out on the open waters Very few of us remained standing ...

The Man and His Dog

I was talking with a friend of mine He tells me he can’t sleep His little dog was killed And he grieves for it deeply “I had it like a small child,” he said “So it wouldn’t drip or get wet I took it out every morning Before the sun had risen yet It never once offended me It never talked back It only looked me in the eyes And wagged its tail I wish I knew if someday We will meet again If they too ...

Grandista Came Tumbling Down

In Grandista, three young maidens Were gathering chamomile. They heard some thunderclaps Before the sun had set. On the ridge of Eleo lightning flashed, In Strebreno it thundered, In Zelenich rain was falling, And Gurlo could not contain it. The rain grew stronger, The rocks began to roll, The torrent swelled and raged, Flooding all the fields. They climbed upon a hillside, Trying to save ...

Civil War

Just before midnight, on a summer night, our windows half-open, yet not a single word was heard. From the mountain opposite the moon was rising. A shadow appeared in the alley beside the marketplace. Footsteps were heard in haste, heading toward the river. Someone had gone to fetch Babo Geraka, the midwife. Labour pains seized the mother, and she said her prayer. She wished for nothing else but ...

Civil War – Part Two

The Last Breath of a Guerrilla Fighter Before dawn on Holy Wednesday, fighting in the battle of Lia, they had spoken to him of freedom. His body collapsed upon the earth, yet he no longer felt pain. His soul separated from the body, invisible, gazing from above. While stray bullets flew, they could no longer touch his soul. It was one of those futile days, like a little boat without oars. He saw ...

The Refugees

Bombs were falling on the village, The bell was tolling, Machine guns were mowing everything down, And a mother was crying. “Pouvólo, pouvólo,” A little child was shouting — But his mother understood He meant machine gun . The night was heavy; In the dark basements, Barefoot and hungry, All the little ones were hiding. On a black night like this, The partisans came into the yard, Searching to ...

Before Darkness Fell

Little Dimitroula ran in haste. She slipped and fell into the well, And like Gerakina , she too Let out a great cry. Her mother’s voice was heard — Terror had overcome her. The father threw himself Into the deep well to save her. A passing priest came running, Trampling the leeks as he rushed. He too wished to jump inside, But his robes held him back. The priest began to pray, Looking high toward ...