Exclusion Calm sea with imperceptible schisms; intentional light that colours the low clouds. So you won’t remember, you won’t forget. The present, he says; which present? Deaf messengers came during the night, they sat on the stone stairs, took out their kerchiefs, lay them on their knees, then they folded them again. They left. One of them had a deep scar from his temple to his chin. He stood, pointed towards the sea and tied the rope on his waist. Then we put the oil lamps on the ground and noticed our shadow, hairy, boneless, gigantic, as it climbed up the white wall.
Joyous Break We were all full of joy that morning oh God, how full of joy. First, the stones, the leaves and the flowers shone then the sun a huge sun full of thorns yet so high up in the sky. A nymph gathered all our cares and hung them from the trees a forest of Judas trees. Young cupids and satyrs played and sang there and you could see rosy limbs among the black laurels flesh of little children. We were full of joy all morning long the abyss was a closed well where the tender hoof of a young faun pounded you remember its laughter: how full of joy we were! Then clouds, rain and the moist soil you stopped laughing as you laid down in the hut and opened your large eyes gazing the Archangel practicing with a fiery sword. ‘Inexplicable’ you said ‘inexplicable’ ‘I don’t understand people no matter how much they play with colors they all remain black.’
Tyne did not know what to say. If Morley were here, he would know how to respond to Ruby’s outrageous suggestion. She lowered her head and mouthed a silent prayer. “Oh God, help me say the right things. Give me wisdom, Lord, because I’m scared. I’m scared for Morley because I don’t know what’s happened to him. And I’m scared for these children you have seen fit to bring into our lives. But God, I’m not ready for all this; too much has happened too fast. Please keep Morley safe and send him to me.” She looked up to find Ruby staring at her. Tyne shook her head. “I can’t give you an answer, Ruby. You know I’ll have to talk to Morley about it.” Ruby nodded. “Yeah, sure I know. But I also know I can’t take him back, Tyne. I’m just dreaming when I say he has to come home.” She burst into tears. Tyne jumped to her feet. Crossing to the sofa, she sat down beside the distraught woman and put her arms around her. “Hush, it will be all right, I promise. We’ll work something out.” In a few minutes Ruby dried her tears and stood up. “I have to see Ronald again before it’s time for my bus. I have to go home tonight.” At the door she turned with a half smile. “Thanks for listening.” Tyne watched her leave, her thoughts in turmoil. Another promise … she had just made another promise that she didn’t know if she could keep. Her life was spinning out of control. She and Morley had been married for less than half a year when their world was rocked by that first promise she had made the night Lydia Conrad had come to the nurses’ station in Emblem Hospital. As a result of that brief encounter with her patient, she and Morley had known the joy of loving two small children; they had known panic when those children went missing; and they had known the heartache of losing their own unborn child. And now, Morley was missing after going on a mission of mercy to find the children’s father and bring him to them. What more do you want of us, God? Tyne cried in her heart. What more do you want us to do?
“I like the dean’s offer. I believe it will be quite a job, and I should take this opportunity. Of course, there is the fact that I must go abroad for a couple of years, but that is the way the cookie crumbles, as the saying goes. I cannot avoid that: it is part of the Hermes package. When I return, I will be hired, no questions asked. The dean assured me of this. Of course, I need to talk to my parents, who I’m sure won’t like the idea of two years in a foreign country. I’d like to hear your opinion, though. From both of you. You two have been my second parents for so long, and you understand this a bit more than my father and my mother could understand.” His aunt sat there, silently looking at him with great affection, this child who made her feel so proud. Demetre cleared his throat, “This is a very good offer, a position which many others would love to have. It’s a lot better than being hired as a clerk at some bank or a government position, although that would perhaps be a steadier career. Still, this is better for you because it will open quite a wide field of action for later. Of course, the disadvantage is that you need to go away for a while. It is, after all, a serious thing to go so far away and be a stranger among strangers, with no friends, and all that. On the other hand, if that is what it takes, that is what a man does.” Hermes smiled at the last part of his uncle’s comment, “Yes, there is always a way where there is a will. I believe in what I can do, and I know deep inside that after the hardship, I’m going to be where I like to be and among the people I like the most.” “We know you well,” his uncle says, “and we know that we cannot go against what you want to do. Besides, you are in many ways exceptional, and you owe it to yourself to achieve great success.” Demetre was right: he saw in this young man the soul of the eagle who lived near the mountain peaks, unconquered by time. He will remind him of this at every step of his way. Hermes realizes clearly now it is his duty to try, and it is his duty not to fail, although the word fail is one he never had in his vocabulary. He now knew clearly that he owed this to his destiny, because it was no less than…
Moments later Freddy’s older brother Gus came charging out the back door. He was shirtless. Nelson Monroe, also naked above the waist, was in pursuit. A three-masted schooner, as Freddy had claimed, was tattooed across his hairless chest. Nelson caught up to Gus at the back of the yard and shoved him face-first to the ground. Mrs. Monroe pushed open the kitchen window. – Please, Nellie! she whimpered. No! Mr. Monroe buried a knee between Gus’s shoulder blades and forced his arms behind his back. Then Mr. Monroe unhooked his belt and began whipping Gus like a dog. Leather bit into skin — thwack! thwack! thwack! The muscles in Gus’s shoulders rolled in protest. – Four! Five! Six! Nelson Monroe chanted. He exhaled in short, evenly paced bursts like someone performing calisthenics. – Seven! Eight! Nine! Freddy tried to intervene. Nelson tossed him aside like a wet towel. – Ten! Eleven! Twelve! Freddy ran to the fence separating the yards and pleaded with Mrs. Sanderson, who was working in her garden. – Help us! Freddy pleaded. He’s not our real dad! Mr. Whitley silenced his mower. Ed Tyson across the alley watched from a stepladder. When Freddy appealed to them, Mr. Whitley disappeared inside his basement. Mr. Tyson looked away. Gus wriggled free and crawled away like wounded game. A wrong righted, Nelson Monroe threaded the belt back through the loops of his trousers. His forehead glistened with perspiration. Heavy breathing made the schooner heave: rough seas. My next recollection was of Gus marching along Mons Drive, that pirate patch of a birthmark bright as a blueberry. Freddy and I followed on bicycles. The pavement baked under a noon glare. Neighbours abandoned their chores as Gus filed by, tears welling in his eyes. – Hang in there, Gus, someone said.
When I Fall In Love You shouldn’t have left me, my love! I’ve come back home now and I can’t relax. I still think of you; I’m dizzy from your presence next to me for so many hours. Now I hear the blackbirds sing and still I can’t fall asleep. And I can’t believe that a man goes crazy for the aroma of a flower the way I do. I get drunk with the thought that you’ll be my next “past lover”… the one who will teach me all over my new habits that will turn into bittersweet memories again. Like the sweet you offered my on a spoon not long ago. The will turn me mad in the future and make me suffer the same that turns me wild now.
Family Gathering However how long had I stayed there? And where that there was — while here the hours passed almost quietly only that every so oen you had to choose something or the rain would start and the heaviest of the servant girls would get up and bring inside the prophecy or father, who worrisome, looked at us as if he was guilty that things wouldn’t talk to us; secretly the clock controlled the house leading the girls to hiding or mother to her separate room; but at night the crickets, lying on old caskets, sang to the sick children and the fool up on the roof wanted all the sleep to herself until the bloodied moon leaned on the hill like the poet onto this ancient alphabet.
Chromatism Dusk paints the sky with a diaphanous chromatism before you can see the stars sparkling matches and Bic lighters while the naked oak stares as the young falcon ruffles his feathers and clips his talons “Bring me a soft feather and a wing” you cry in agony as the petals of gardenia flowers decide to turn yellow and signal their wish for an end like the rainbow wishes for the end of rain and the chrysanthemum laughs out of embarrassment as you pull the chair closer to sense my sighs which settle here once and all the short laughs heard nearby when the moon stands alone in the firmament and the sin was a myth “Call me a messenger and get my love letter to her tender box” you shout yet the worm is implanted in the apple and Eros is turned into a curse like Phaethon was turned to a devil at a convenient moment peace spent and many bodies sat here on this chair that still bows
“How can you do this?” She said, breathing hard, with bitter contempt. I felt that I had her pinned with a spear against a wall. “Urquía and Matyba were right. They warned me. You are a white man, and I’m just an Indian. I was foolish to believe You.” She fought to keep her dignity. She stood up. “I will take herbs to kill your spirit in me. That way You will not have to return here. That way I will never have to see you again.” “You mustn’t! That would be an even greater sin. Please, if you love me at all, please, please, Apacuana. I beg you . . . you cannot do that. You cannot kill the life that might be inside you.” “But you can? You are killing me right here.” Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes and the corners of her mouth drooped. I felt my determination falter; my voice was thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. Were I not a man of God, I’d be with you until the moon falls from the heaven, but I can’t. I’m sorry, so sorry.” “The Spanish kill with the sword,” she said. “And the Spanish kill with the word.” And so she left, in sorrow and anger. I saw her slowly walk away and disappear into the jungle. I remembered how sick I had felt during the storm, as we crossed the ocean, locked in the bowels of the ship, breathing the suffocating air, and this felt much worse. Despite the miles of lush, green hills stretching before me, I felt I could not breathe. The pain was choking me. God, how I hated You that day.
‘Whatever. Who knows what’s true and what isn’t? But you know Flynn Casey. Always the rebel Republican. Loyal follower of James Connolly, his hero. His socialism got him involved with the IRA in strikes in Belfast in the Thirties. In fact he was shot in the leg during a march in the Lower Falls area that led to clashes with the police. Three years ago he was interned in Crumlin Road jail after that IRA campaign of protest against the arrival of the American forces.’ ‘I remember that,’ said Seamus. ‘De Valera considered the arrival of the Americans an intrusion on Irish territory. And he was born in America himself. New York, if I remember rightly. And his father was Spanish. What a mad world we live in, Caitlin.’ ‘Let’s hope the real madness is over now, Seamus.’ ‘Amen to that. So what’s Flynn doing in Belfast? Apart from stirring up trouble.’ ‘He’s managing a pub on the Falls Road, though he longs to be back in his Drumard hills. But he has Dermot in Belfast, and a grandson, if you can picture Flynn Casey as a grandfather.’ ‘Happens to most of us,’ Slattery declared. ‘A grandson’ll keep him anchored in Belfast.’ ‘Dermot married the youngest Sweeney girl, didn’t he?’ Michael said, without taking his eyes off the dancers. ‘And carried her off to the big city,’ Seamus replied. ‘They’re very happy there, so I’m told. Dermot has his own business as an electrician.’ Seamus paused momentarily. ‘Now there’s another good man gone. Ignatius Sweeney. Got out of bed one morning and dropped dead. And he hadn’t a grey hair in his head when he died. Still that short hair that stood straight up on his head. What your father described as the unravelled end of a rope. Good old Ignatius. I think he ate himself to death.’ ‘That’s a terrible thing to say, Seamus Slattery,’ Caitlin chided. ‘Oh you know I didn’t mean it. A poor joke, Caitlin, and I shouldn’t have said it. Though old Ignatius might have enjoyed it. Violet, of course, went to Belfast to live with Dermot and Maire after Ignatius died, but I hear her health is not too good.’ ‘I don’t think she ever got over Ignatius’s death,’ Caitlin said. ‘It was so sudden and unexpected.’ ‘And Joe Carney’s another one,’ Seamus continued in his vein of In Memoriam. ‘His heart let him down. And young Joe. Joe-Joe we used to call him. Remember?’ Seamus leaned forward. ‘Remember the day you pulled him out of the harbour, Michael?’
Manolis Aligizakis 