Infinity
I just crossed the Piraeus Port Gate 8;
Sideways the symbol of infinity.
And I’m heading to the Island
Sliding on the sea.
In upright posture,
It feels like a new beginning
To me.
Amongst the people’s voices and coughs
That interrupt the sound carpet of the ship
I wonder
Is there a therapy for PTSD for the dead?
It’s easy to say there is no need.
They stop:
Thinking
Feeling
Suffering.
A comforting thought for the most.
Not
For me.
I find comfort in calling their names.
The vibration of the syllables
Running through me
Rather than a healer
Is more like a palliative.
But
My
Means
Are
Abruptly
Reduced
And so
Undeniably
Poor.
I try to adjust in vain
Naively struggling to alleviate pain.
Augusta
Baby!
Niña,
Mom,
Dad,
Granny,
Grandpa,
Auntie,
Angelina,
Persa,
Sofia!
I call
Their names
And
I’m still
Waiting
For
An answer
To
Come.
I would like to ask them:
After you’ve done
All you could
For you
But still had to cross over
To the other side,
How do you feel?
What truth is more strongly rooted
Into you:
My body betrayed me
Or
I did everything Ι could?
Probably the easiest thing to do
Is going with the flow.
If you resist,
The pain is worse;
In the stomach,
A big rough stone.
Pity you can only tell after
You’ve experienced
The scary encounter
With the unknown.
A path you cannot avoid
Even if
With all your heart
You tried
To take a detour
Knowing that
You had no real chance
To flee or to elude.
Maybe the answer lies within
We’re all after all linked.
But to see I still have to dive in.
It’s like treasure hunting
To my core’s deep.
Then I say to myself:
Wake up!
The dead have no need for therapy
The dead get to know already
They arrive first, the cord they cut.
Maybe we suffer from PTSD
While being in constant recovery
From our life’s surprising discoveries
As much as we are in search of where to sow our seeds.
History only seems to repeat itself
Although so much is known
Apart from the immense unknown.
Going through pain and death
One can see the light in the dark.
The awareness’s brightest spark
Is that
Nothing becomes ours
If we keep locked the door of our hearts.
Mental and feelings need to meet in calm waters
And together in harmony stroll.
Could it be that things
Don’t come to an end
Don’t start
They are rather running in a multi-shades-loop?
And the life’s micro-cycles
Are its reminiscent
Whisking us around,
Its fingerprints.
We are born
And we learn
From scratch.
It takes some time
To understand
We are not Marco Polo
In every discovery
But nothing
Takes away the excitement
Which,
As it should be,
Is all ours to feel
And yearn for it afterwards as adults.
And that’s how it goes again and again.
Things
Attract
Meet
Clash
Pull
Push
Get lost
And return.
Like atoms, elements and objects
In life’s uniqueness and flow
They
Endlessly
Move
With
No
Bad feelings
Fear
Nor
Regrets.
On the way to Aigina (Island in Greece, Europe), 30/05/2024.