The Thread Of Khirokitia Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

The Thread Of Khirokitia

Rating: 4.5


My house, distant of an arrow’s blow from Khirokitia,
same with the house of ancestors of same soil, encloses
my centuries; in nights turns its cylindrical mouth to stars.

I bury my parents beneath the floor, protecting them,
sleepless I fetch for them wools, seeds, the grater.
sitting for hours I hear them bringing me in our future,
the pencil-makers welcoming Minoans and Achaeans:
Thirondae Kerastias, Meonis, Impataon. Here is Ariadne,
dropping us the tread to pass and undo our Minotaur.

Our women embroidered our history onto their laces,
on meandros and rivers of laces, I see the fate and fight.
It’s a win not a loss that you, Da Vinci, brought our art*
to Milano; you saved it for the world, through centuries.

The thread of our tradition has arrived to your place,
it leads the bull and Europe to you, Saxon youngsters.
The tread starts from inside, beneath our homes, talks
home language: do good-and-fine to have a worthy life.

If logic rarely misleads me, my conscience never does:
the path of the thread, from drama to catharsis, is lit
by a torch of celestial flame of our ancestor-selves.

Where do you come from, Khirokitia and your thread?
What’s your will, my Culture, in the course of Time?



© JosephJosephides

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
* Leonardo da Vinci is said to have ordered the Lefkara needlework, a lid altar, which he donated to the Cathedral (Duomo) 'Aghios Stephanos' of Milan.
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