This poetry collection is a lyrical record of life in the small village of Sklithron (Zeleniche) in Western Macedonia (Greece), and of the journey of emigration to an adopted homeland, Canada. Through memory, place, and longing, these poems honour the people and everyday moments that shaped a generation.
Written by Kosmas Yotis, this collection preserves the voice of village life and the experience of leaving home—carrying the past forward while building a new life abroad.
PROLOGUE
The poems within this website
Aim to capture memories
They create a moment in time
And instill a sense of nostalgia
Those written to remind us
Of other eras
Old friends, old neighbourhoods
And forgotten feelings
To make us laugh and to make us cry
And to shout with joy
This book is also
A reminder of the fact
That when we were growing up
Many of the stories we heard
Were something more than stories
They were lived experiences
From our families
Experiences that shaped
Not only their values
But also their character
As well as
These poems will be
Stories and experiences
That will pass on to the next generation
And help strengthen
The enduring bond Between grandparent and grandchild
A bachelor who had grown old Returned back to his village; Half a century had passed In search of his own self. He stumbled over weary feet, Leaning on a long cane; His teeth were gone from years gone by, Yet he wore a handsome suit. He sat inside the coffeehouse And hardly spoke a word; He thought about the years long past, Hidden in a corner. The houses seemed so low to him, From centuries long ...
And old age fell heavily upon him Before he could even realize; And just before the break of dawn He set out again for the village. Fifty years he had been gone, He knew no one anymore; All the years he spent in America Had come to nothing at all. He found himself back in his village, alone, Not knowing what to do; “As I was born a poor man,” he said, “So poor I shall die.” One morning at the ...
Three sisters were growing up, Honest, modest, and fair; All the village admired them, The three always together. They were warned never to forget, If they wished to be well-spoken of, To guard their honour carefully So they might find worthy husbands. They owned a little humble house With a low small yard, A tiny patch of farmland And one small cow. The sisters grew into great beauties, The ...
It was the month of August, With rains and raging storms; Everyone hurried to their homes, Leaving their daily cares behind. The three rivers joined as one Near Saint Dimitrios’ shrine, Flooding everywhere and everything, Reaching close to Stasos’ house. We saw an old woman running, Barefoot through the rain; And though the downpour did not cease, She entered Stasos’ yard. Geraka came out alone ...
Friends came to see me From the great and busy city. “But why sit here like this?” they said, “You’ll grow faint and dizzy.” One night they took me with them To chase after the girls; But their brothers spotted us, And we scattered through the alleys. They brought me back at morning light, Straight into the kitchen; Half past five the day began, And the routine continued. There we worked ...
Four friends from the village, Met together at “Margareta,” And made a household of their own, Where ten men lived together at a time. For breakfast, they told us Cornflakes were the thing to eat. So we went and bought some, Certain we would dine properly. A giant box we carried home, Covered with many letters; It even had red little spots — They looked like strawberries. We poured in plenty of ...
I found my ancestors, And lit small candles With tears within my eyes. I spoke a few soft words to them — Though our little bones May rest in foreign soil, All our souls will meet again. Three friends came to the village From Canada afar. We gathered at the coffeehouse And passed our days in joy. Four bachelors arrived together, And married men departed; All four of us it seemed Had come away as ...
A body without a soul Can no longer offer good. When the final breath is drawn, It can no longer carry out evil. The dreams of a little child Have now been left behind. Look now to your survival— And leave something kind. One gentle word— You will treasure it for years. But cruel words spoken You will remember for eternity. The bullet that you hear Is not the one that kills you. The bullet that ...
From the village we arrived At Bloor and Margaretta . There we met each other And lived ten by ten together. We formed a little colony, A migrant nest abroad. Families came one by one— With elders and with little children. The colony kept filling, Margaretta overflowed. Our village emptied slowly As people left ten by ten. Families grew larger, And there was no room for us all. The sorrows of the ...
GUS and GASTIS from the village Decided to open a restaurant. The two of them agreed at once Without a single comment. One would stand at the register The other would work in the kitchen. Soon they would open the doors And money would begin to pour in. A sign out front they prepared With their names displayed. Workers laboured inside And the two of them helped as well. Above the door the sign ...
