The island below my navel

The most magical waterfall

amidst the most graceful of trees

the home of the most captivating creatures

be it butterflies, birds or fish.

A pink sun reigning over

sounding the most welcoming of songs

the island below my navel

where both you and your sister were born.

But it darkened and dried

slowly but surely as you faded away.

It sent strong, piercing earthquakes

in a soundscape of looped wails.

Where the pink sun stood warm and heavenly

now hangs a dome of gloomy black thorns

and all that, which thrived there

are all of them dead or are gone.

Yet a little wildflower grows

I can see it -how strange-

it must have been watered by your tears

all those nights in excruciating pains.

It looks strong and determined

however tiny, sings its own song

makes me wonder, could it be true?

Could I ever be reborn without you?

And I suddenly see you -so calm, so wise-

you ‘re curling up, once more, inside of me

besides it all,

you have found your place.

You don’t mind the darkness

you know you have your own light

coz you, my son, my Sun,

are the brightest, shiniest of lights.

Kika Georgiou