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Modern Poetry | as a Result of Cyprus 1974

Modern Poetry | as a Result of Cyprus 1974Modern Poetry – as a result of Cyprus 1974. This poem reflects what I observed and researched in regard to one Public Servant, who was on duty around the Coast at Alsancak, before the Turkish Army arrived.  I used a Turkish Cypriot as interpreter and spent a lot of time with this guy. My conclusion was that the man was suffering from an invisible war injury – Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. The original poem contained his name but for his privacy I have omitted this. Some people who live in Alsancak may recognise him.

The Damaged Man

Repetitively
Tapping cigarette packet.
Casting imaginary incense
Praying that the past.
Will not come back
What did he see.
What does he feel
Mind blocked
 
Wandering, torn spirit
Thinking of the dead.
He found under
A pile of bodies.
Darkened liquid terror
Voices of killers.
Smell of blood
Lie still, survive.
 
Never right
Not quite mad.
Aimlessly tapping
Casting around.
Terror pierced mind
Let me out.
I’m alive
Mind still buried.
 
Certain places he stops
Invisible pile.
Humanity long gone
Kith and Kin departed.
Killed by war, invasion
For peace and humanity.
Smoking, drinking
Always thinking.
 
Brown eyes
So peaceful.
Mind torn and broke
Tap, tap, tapping.
Casting around
Not a chant.
Cry from a damaged soul
Lamenting past ills.
 
Does he see
Ghosts and acts.
Of terror and cruelty
His own guilt may be.
The root of the mantra
Never to be whole.
Not taken seriously
Comfortable perhaps.
 
Tap, tap, Tapping
Casting around.
Act of the hurt
Frightened man.
Defence from Ghosts
Protection from hurt.
No more war
No more cruel acts.

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