The shores of time have not washed away my pain.
I have walked the eastern coast of Lesbos,
wandered through the streets of Athens and Thessaloniki,
In Delphi, I prayed
I visited old monasteries,
contemporary art expositions
lost myself in French impressionism
encountering beauty in a brushstroke of pinkish skies and ocre rivers,
And yet, I could not let go of all that pain,
bottled up in my chest,
Horizons wide as the eye can look, turning Turners legacy
into a foregone beauty,
and yet, I could not let go,
From the olive groves to the ruins of Delphi,
the Greek gods, and the enlightenment of philosophy
I could not find solace
nor peace.
Utter loneliness found me.
And in that encounter with loneliness,
I found myself,
I was, became to be
a companionship to be molded, be created to my liking and loving,
I became free
it was me who held myself,
caressing my own arms,
a whispering dream of love,
until I felt safe enough to fall asleep,
I took care of myself, fed myself, guided myself towards beauty,
tried to find beauty in the rippling seas from afar,
desolate beaches and worldly sunsets,
untouched forests and flying species,
I tried to find humor to heal my wounds,
a pinch of madness
to soothe my wounds,
At times I did not know
whether to laugh, frantically, hysterically,
burst into tears
or clench my fist
and punch a hole in my pillow.