I will not get to Greece this year. It is breaking my heart, but it is true. When my mind must escape, this is where I go. Tsougria, a small island, is in the Aegean, just a short boat trip from Skiathos. At one time the people of Skiathos brought their olives here to be pressed. The press and outbuildings remain, but are in disrepair, crumbling. The island is now uninhabited, but boaters and tourists come for the day to swim at the beaches. The water is clear and it is the bluest of blues. A small monastery remains on the island, it is beautifully tended. Throughout the years many rich and powerful people have tried to buy this island, and they are still trying. In the seventies, the Beatles fell in love with the island. It is said that the song "Strawberry Fields" was written there. They tried to purchase the island. Fortunately, they did not succeed. Skeptics say that it is a matter of time before it is developed and turned into a money making property. I hope that never happens. There is one small operating taverna, open only during daylight hours. They serve excellent food, but, if you are lucky, they will also cook seafood that you have harvested yourself. From the shores it is not difficult to gather sea urchins. Perhaps even an octopus. I have been there with others that have brought in several small fish. What a treat that is! Fresh fishand other seafood, good Greek salad, a little ouzo, some ice cold beer, and for dessert some ripe fruit- watermelon, green melon, peaches, maybe some grapes. Heaven on Earth!
Skopelos and Virgin
-by Skorda
when first you see it
across the water,
rising round and new above the mountain.
Open your mouth and swallow
while youth holds its roundness near,
and you are running fearless in the dark.
Hold it inside, it is still warm
and you will need its light,
there, inside you.
Down the road of time, somewhere
after you’ve aged, traveled,
Explored, discovered.
And the dust around your doorway
has been pounded hard and smooth under your feet.
When you find yourself growing weary and bored,
when your eyes see only ruins,
and your heart is empty.
You may believe, in your exhaustion,
that this is truth, at last.
That the mystery has unraveled,
leaving no wilderness to explore or tame.
All secrets have been shared,
the frontier has dissolved.
Know then, with these thoughts,
you have been swallowed.
The warm belly of the beast
comforts with confining darkness
and lulls with rhythmic sounds
Murmuring to you,
Curl up and sleep,
just go to sleep.
Shake your head,
stretch your legs,
do not sleep now.
Remember what you know.
You swallowed the moon,
you hold it inside you.
Not as a magpie hoarding shiny things,
or wearing the moon for beauty
or bartering the moon for wealth.
You swallowed the moon for this moment.
When you will walk to the water’s edge,
open your mouth, release the moon
and let its light build you a pathway
across the wine dark sea.
©Skorda 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Favorite Places: Tsougria
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