David Capps
For Konstantinos Katsifas
Morning’s vibrancy
. of white goose down feather,
. of chipped porcelain transformers on the old path
. of the cemetery, flowers and basil strewn across your stone
. of grey and white, does not consist
. of how things ought to be.
Spring is the nature
. of its talk, whirlwinds that in their infancy
. will not outlast morning, cloudbursts that end
. before the day is done, horta, weeds seeking to put down
. roots in an abandoned lot. Yet five-thousand people
. lined the streets for you.
Strong winds rattled,
. broke the glass of another lantern. Shards lay beside
. candles lit for you, gently pressed in sand.
. Houselights from distant villages shine at night
. like candles lit for you. All autumn steps
. through their windows.
Where else can your spirit go?
. After planting the Greek flag on the cross they shot you.
. Above your head flew past, in sync: the stars,
. the waves and beach, the border and its battlements,
. cries of human voices shading into
. changeless dusk.
About the writer:
David Capps is a philosophy professor at Western Connecticut State University. He is the author of three chapbooks: Poems from the First Voyage (The Nasiona Press, 2019), A Non-Grecian Non-Urn (Yavanika Press, 2019), and Colossi (Kelsay Books, forthcoming). He lives in New Haven, Connecticut.
About Konstantinos Katsifas: Konstantinos Katsifas was a 35-year-old ethnic Greek construction worker. Katsifas was killed by Albanian Special Forces in the Greek-Albanian border region for raising the Greek flag during an Albanian celebration.
Image: Descent from the Cross by Yannis Gaitis 1923-1984. Mixed media on canvas. 195.5 × 150 cm. 1984. By free license.
