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31
The Cyprus Winter
The great turning point
not like a white siege
but more like a blitz war.
The ocean, green-white teeth
throws its armies
over the breakwater reefs.
The Armageddon of thunder from Troodos
attacking the biblical landscape,
forces the cypress trees to their knees.
The frenzy of the sky
the guided missiles of the lightning
the traumas.
In the madness of the thunder,
save us!
The trumpet of the sun
shrieking
like a divine intervention
no long negotiations,
frozen fields of hatred.
The god of light
has blessed his island
with promised peace
and harvest rich
enough for all.
Morning Service
The waves carry patiently
their lights
to a world lacking power
The wind has changed to a breeze
and whispering
the words of the comforter
to the shore
in the low language
of the conch shell
White is the sun behind its veils,
the echo
from the depth of the vaults of space
The morning gives a service
and sky, wind and ocean
still the restlessness of day and night
Blessing comes
wordless
again to find
the contours of eternity
for all to
read and understand
The ocean sparkles
humbly
peace!