Patriarchal Pilgrimage

I grew up with Cyprus in the news:

First its independence (in the sixties),

Then its invasion (in the seventies),

The Greeks and Turks separated.

The island partitioned. Deep distrust.

Even EU tentacles fail to bind its sinews...

...And it took a football tour to bring me here.

As soon as I heard my son’s school would play,

I booked my flight with history in mind.

Semi-detached. Patriarchal. Proud.

But how would my 15 year old react?

I kept my counsel ‘til his fist match.

We pilgrimaged, my old friend,

Chris and I. From south to north.

Passported.we visited his village

 and grandfather’s desecrated grave

-with tears –half remembered

afternoons of backgammon.

  

Fighting invading forces without

ammunition and supplies.

Saved by mountains, now lost to his side.

So the day came for the first match.

Espied with sad disapproval, he questioned me

“Dad? Why not tell me you’d be here?”

My answer echoed years. “Otherwise,

I would not have come at this time,

To try to make sense of this divided land,”

It is a tragedy of our world.

 And still the major powers are active,

Gas having been found.

I hope my son will understand.

I suspect it’s OK.

His team won their games.

John Angel

May 2012