KAYA KOY (Ghost Village)

(Vacated during Turkish/Greek repatriation 1923)

By Peter Woodgate

I climb your polished cobbles

seeking visions of the past

but your grey and weathered walls

have vacant eyes;

The sun beats down exposing

unprotected frames,

bones, without the flesh,

beneath the skies.

 

And when the sun sinks low,

quenching daylight thirsts,

night will cast her shadows

on the scene;

A whisper, through the silence,

is all that can be heard,

as creatures roam the paths

where souls have been.

 

Tell me what your thoughts are,

do you resent all humankind,

for deserting, leaving feelings of mistrust?

And do the spirits linger,

in the by-ways of your heart,

weeping, as you slowly turn to dust?  

Copyright Peter Woodgate