They were already awake,
The sky dark as the work ahead,
Hands stiff from la tierra,
Feet bruised from the miles,
Yet they never stopped.
The nights were too short,
The days stretched on,
Sleep was a luxury they couldn’t afford.
Still, they pressed forward,
One step, then another.
La tierra gave little,
But took all they had.
Baskets filled with fruit,
Hands worn from the toil,
Every mark, every tear,
A step toward a future
They could only imagine,
But believed in.
Backs bent,
Bruised hands,
Yet their strength remained.
It wasn’t for them;
It was for us.
They worked for a future
That lived only in their dreams.
Every weary limb,
Was woven into a legacy
That endures through time.
What they built isn’t carved in stone,
but in the quiet moments we hold close,
in the lessons that shape us,
in a love that never fades
a legacy that lives within us.
Thought I perhaps should let all my friends see,
How touched I was on finding this letter to me,
Found by mistake, after so many years,
I collapsed into buckets of tears,
A treasure bequeathed to me, was meant to be.
POST-SCRIPT:
As the writing is faint
in the scan above I have typed it out
for ease of legibility.
Abu Ben Adhem
(poem by Hunt, James Henry Leigh)
(1784-1859)
Has been translated in Greek by
Dimitrios Stais (as per manuscript
in possession of his son Panos Stais)
This small note is sent to
Jennifer Alan Hunt, the great
grand-daughter of Dimitri
Stais.
Of course, poems of many other
authors of this "English Verse"
Oxford Book were translated
in Greek by Dimitris Stais,
but I simply make mention of
the one titled as above because
of the author's name. (HUNT)
May I express the
wish, dearest Jennifer, that
one of the future editions of
Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
comprise some of your cherished
poems.
With lots of love
your gd father
Panos
Athens 19th December 1968
A fatherless boy with a motherless son, wrote stories of nature to please everyone.
Stories from the meadow, stories from the sea, native son of Sandwich, we come to honor thee.
Five generations, of his family tree, native son of Sandwich, we come to honor thee.
Great grandfather tree was wizen and wise.
He kept to himself, southeast of where the crow flies.
We ventured toward him whenever we needed advice.
He was usually entertaining the ducks, locust and mice.
Everyone in the woods gravitated to Great grandfather tree.
His advice was sage, succinct, and as easy to follow as could be.
You almost never got to speak to him alone, he was surrounded by kin.
Sometimes they had to part to let you wander on in.
Today I was totally awestruck,
Found many family photos
When we had moved
That had been packed,
but not numbered
in this mystery box,
Laying quietly, naively,
It’s contents
Blew off my socks.
I stared with unbelief
At this picture,
As my ancestry was revealed,
It was hiding under some
Documents, concealed,
From view, I shook the
Document, out fell this gem
From the 19th century, unbelievable,
Inconceivable,
The child in the photo
My grandfather as a baby,
With his grandfather.
His mother,
My great grandmother.
My grandfather
Sent this to me
In nineteen seventy,
It was put in a box
And forgotten, until today,
A scene from Turkey
A place far away,
But meant something
To me, so dear and so close,
Those old-fashioned clothes,
The generations between us
Seemed to disappear,
As I heard my papou
Whisper from heaven,
In my ear,
So glad you this found
This box and photo
Today, did you not
Notice it’s half open lid,
Its contents hid
For a century and a half,
It was time you knew
My grandfather too!
PAPOU IN GREEK MEANS GRANDFATHER
I love you but I don’t know you,
I miss you, though you’ve never been here
I long for what the years have stolen…
a vacant memory so dear
I feel you across the hallowed spectrum,
of death and then beyond
Where our spirits write the words together…
different verses—the same song
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
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