Before we existed the Earth lived, before it spread its plains it was alive with its knowledge and wisdom; in the primeval days water and fire fought many wars over the soft body of this earth, and the two enemy elements made peace and lived together and the world shone its joy and purpose; you, oh harmony, and the seed of the great father stirred in the womb of the endless sea which gave birth to us too and when the verdure of the forests glowed with life the world assumed a joyous, unimaginable beauty. And when man walked upon the Earth his mind shone like a new sun that fogged the heavens.
Protect yourselves from the panic that spreads soon after blood stains the asphalt protect yourselves from the club of the cop the accusation of the informer from the indifferent crowd who will fill the streets again protect yourselves from the spring, the following summer the travel arrangements and personal reveries from the two future husbands who argue where the dead people were laid protect yourselves from the poets who steal verses from graves of the unknown.
‘Susan, that’s unkind.’ Clifford considered Susan rather trying at times. ‘It’s also unkind of you two to get on to shop-talk when we’re out enjoying ourselves,’ Susan countered. ‘Ask her to join us. Let’s give her a good time.’ ‘Maybe I will in a moment.’ Clifford took a thoughtful sip of his brandy. ‘I suppose Liam’s looking after the children,’ said Fiona. ‘Or Nora’s mother is,’ Clifford suggested. ‘You mean that pretty girl has children already?’ John could not conceal his surprise. ‘Two of them,’ Fiona answered. ‘A boy and a girl.’ ‘She didn’t waste any time,’ Ian remarked. ‘They’re young, of course,’ said Fiona. ‘Four years and two and a half, I believe.’ ‘Don’t look now, Ian Anderson,’ said John, ‘but Clifford has just gone to get you a woman: a dark beauty of black, remorseless tragedy.’ ‘You’re drunk, John Simpson,’ Susan said. ‘How many sneakies did you have at the bar?’ ‘Listen to her, Ian,’ John said. ‘Not a month married and she’s nagging the hell out of me already. Are you sure you really want a wife?’ ‘Very sure,’ Ian replied firmly. ‘I don’t imagine that you would be nagging Julian, Catriona,’ John said, ‘when you are only a month into your marriage.’ ‘I’d wait for two months,’ said Catriona. Like Ian’s, her voice too was richly seasoned with Fiona’s lost ‘oats and haggis.’ ‘You’d better watch that one, Julian,’ John warned light-heartedly. ‘What Clifford didn’t tell you,’ Fiona began, leaning forward to speak in confidence, ‘is that he delivered that young lady—at her birth, I mean—when he was barely two months into his internship. It was a very difficult placenta previa delivery that required a C-section under the most primitive conditions. He almost lost the mother and the baby too.’ ‘Good old Clifford,’ said John. ‘A born surgeon and one of the best we have in the country.’ ‘But the sad result of Clifford’s first major surgery,’ Fiona said, ‘is that the mother was left unable to bear children. Clifford blames himself for that. Unfairly, I think. Given his age and inexperience at the time, he did well to save the lives of both the mother and her baby. But he rarely talks about it. He has received both high commendation and strong condemnation from the local doctors in the area.’
I walked to the far ends of the world and talked to the northern and southern races about elegance and freedom that enhanced the ultimate perfectness for self-discovery and acceptance and they all laughed at my face such a selfish man I was that they called me names foolish and a laughingstock of my days and when I stood guard at the western borders I was taken as a lunatic like all other defenders of our ancient traditions which appeared through cracks of my mind past, forgotten days and discarded months to unforgettable years when I talked to the dead soldiers and became merciless when I stood at the far ends of the world as time was allotted only once and only once I had the chance to turn injustice into justice.
Manolis Aligizakis 