poetry

Poetry 18


Spinalonga, Crete

 You were forced to leave,

Away from everything you loved,

To this God forsaken island.

Your home waving from across the water,

The harsh sun beating down painfully,

Scorching the dust under your flimsy shoes.

Salty tears rolling down your cheek,

As you watch forlornly after the retreating boat.

Standing with your small suitcase in your hand,

A man with a grotesquely disfigured face,

Comes to help to take you away,

What are you to do now?

By Lucy Williams

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Poetry 18

  1. You write very well, really well. And you are a great person. You will be well. I wish you all happiness always

      1. A suggestion if you don’t mind. Don’t introduce yourself as someone ‘who has had depression all through life’. Just say you had it in the past. And say it is gone. And always tell yourself it is gone. And it will be gone. Because, as you read this, it is gone!

      2. Hi, my blog is up again, thought I will let you know. By mistake, wordpress had deactivated it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s