Cyprus: The Sky is too dark
They came one day with guns and told us our country didn’t belong to us. They took our houses and our lands. They shot those who resisted. They captured the moon and tortured it until it bled silver. Friends and relatives fell like tree leaves in the autumn.
We grew up with an invisible, yet impenetrable wall that wouldn’t let us stand in the ground that was ours. I saw the soldiers. I saw their guns. I felt the pain and their hate. Time didn’t bring relief. It didn’t bring peace. Only oblivion. For less people care now. They’ve accepted things as they are. It is easier for them. But there is still a hollow place inside of us. Still a black spot where the moon used to be.
green line that divides the sun
I remember once, Holy Saturday it was. We were around the church with candles in our hands. Only half a step away from the border. I turned my head and I saw the gun. The hands looked so friendly. So familiar. But you held a gun, not a candle. And it was pointed at my heart. Unbending, life consuming hate wrapped in metal. So cruel.
What a job you have my brother. Did you choose to be there dividing us eternally or where you chosen and trained to hate us? We learn to hate you too. We were chosen… when the stars were refused a place in their sky, when our homes were taken so violently thirty-something years ago.
Have you been standing there since? How much longer will you stay?
You won’t let us cross, let us go home. You blow our candles, outside the church. Frozen I stare at you. And maybe I don’t believe in God, but the light was real and now it’s gone.
My brothers how could you?
I fall asleep underneath ceilings full of dust and cobwebs. In rooms with locked windows, without doors. Strangers lay next to me. Whisper my name. I send them away before dawn.
During the twilight hours, I usher the last stars back on their sky, a sky that does not care for me. That it does not know of me. I wish I could sing. There are so many things I’d be able to tell you. If you visit me in my dreams, I will show you.
An open letter to my 16th old self
Dear girl behind that smiling mask,
it’s alright. It will be ok. One day. I promise. But you have to endure it all. You have to let your wounds bleed and heal. Hide the scars if you must. Do whatever you have to. I know how hard it is to live when inside you are dying. When inside you are already giving up. I’m not going to lie to you. Worse years are coming. Diagnoses, and no cures. And more pain and lies and isolation. More pain than one should have to go through. Sleepless nights spent in agony. Days haunted by darkness. But you will get through it all. You will rise above it all. So don’t you ever, ever give up. Because I’ve been where you are. And I know where you are going. I know where you’ll be. I know how beautiful you’ll be. I know the woman you’ll become. And I’m proud of her and you should be too. Don’t deny her this chance.
I promise, one day, it will be ok.