LAND OF THE BITTER VIRGIN

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I open and close my eyelids hastily as I recover from the blow. The first thing I feel next to me, my three boys, my whole life.
"Mom..."
"Mommy..."
Twice. Two voices. I'm wrong. God, I'm wrong. My life is not perfect. It's a lack. One less voice. One less life.
"Where;" I scream and my soul is torn. "Where is my other son?"

CYPRUS sea lover, lioness. But enslaved by the colonialists. When the time is right, her people stand up, alone, against an empire. He fights and hopes. It hurts and it bleeds.
To the gallows of the English first. And then face the Turk. The invader who drowned the island in blood, that black summer of '74. The summer of the dead, the prisoners, the uprooted, the thousands of missing.
Of Maritsa who was left with an empty, orphaned embrace. Of Eleni who refuses to wear black, because she was not handed a body to euthanize. Of Vagorakis who stands all day with the photograph of a lost father hanging on his unripe chest. Of Nikos, Andreas, Markos, black and white images in front of lit candles.

Men, women, children, our brothers in Cyprus.
This is their right and tear.
This is their fight.