A
helicopter thunders through the sky
its
devil noise scaring me
making
me look up
where
is the danger?
Automatically
my
eyes roaming the sea
where
the elegant rippling blue
is
the only movement
waves
carrying no ship
nor
a rubber dinghy.
The
beach temporarily not clean
a
heap of debris heavily planted in the sand
left
by some divers
who
instead of proudly waving with a squid
broke
through the blue surface
bringing
silent leftovers of wreckage
spiky
wood, rubber pieces, clothes and all
that
a boat once carried
bringing
the scent of
scared
people, oil and sadness.
My
heart still bleeding
hearing
the sound of a helicopter
or
when my nose picks up
this
sad scent that last summer
reigned
over Lesvos' coasts.
Then
the world rushed over the island
disturbing
the quiet rhythm
of
just ordinary beating hearts
who
– what else could they do -
reached
out and helped
from
war drowned
people
children
who did not know
that
they had to live their youth
as
an adult.
And
now that this tearful world
has
gone elsewhere
leaving
the beaches empty and cleaned
villagers
full of traumas
smothered
in dreams
hands
full of emptiness
because
also the people
once
recognizing the island
as
an oasis of quietness and sunshine
have
moved elsewhere.
I
walk along the beach
as
empty as the bordering blue water
above
me unrest in the sky
of
a wild flapping bird
what
are they doing there
now
that the world has left the villagers
and
suddenly I am not sure anymore
what
pains me more
the
quiet beach
or
the suffering elsewhere.
(with
thanks to Mary Staples)
©
Smitaki
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