Santorini
Bend if you can to the dark sea forgetting
the flute’s sound on naked feet
that stepped on your sleep in the other, the sunken life.
Write if you can on your last ostracon
the day the name the place
and throw it in the sea so that is sinks.
We were naked on the pumice stone
watching the rising islands
watching the red islands sink
into their sleep into our sleep.
Here we were naked holding
the scale that tilted to the side
of injustice.
Heel of strength, shadow-less will, calculated love
plans ripening in the mid-day sun path of fate with the new hand
patting on the shoulder
in the place that was scattered that can’t bear any longer
in the place that was once ours
the islands, the ash and the rust sink.
Altars destroyed
and friends forgotten
palm tree leaves in the mud.
Let your hands travel, if you can
here on this corner of time with the ship
that touched the horizon.
When the dice struck the flagstone
when the spear struck the armour
when the eye recognized the foreigner
and love dried up
in hollowed souls
when you look around you discern
harvested feet all over
dead arms everywhere
eyes darkened everywhere
when you can’t choose any longer
even your own death that you wanted
hearing a cry
even the cry of a wolf
you’re right:
let your hands travel, if you can
let yourself free from the unfaithful time
and sink
whoever carries the heavy rocks sinks.
Mayanaam
vequinox
Manolis 