October 3, 2013
by Francesca Muir
The island of infinite tears
Aged by time on a rocky outcrop
Bent crooked by seasons of Meltemes
All that remains is a feint glimpse into an untenable life
A life removed from a life, just a few breaststrokes away
A futile future of pain, scant hope and isolation.
For this quiet island of endurance, solitude and tears
Is the island of no return, where man and nature meld as one.
The island of the damned.
Where dreams never escape the shadows and laughter lies strangled by ghosts of past
This is Spinalonga.
The remains of last leper colony in Europe.
A means of removing the intractable invasion
A means to an end.
The beginning of the end.
On the island of infinite tears.
© 2013 Francesca Muir