Captain of Memory: Sailing the Greek Seas

 

By Theodora Filis

Beneath the dawn's first blush, the horizon unrolled before me like the promise of an unwritten epic.

Each passage links memory and horizon, as I cross their shifting blue.

Not as a guest, nor another face in the crowd

But captain—my hands firm on the wheel,

Wind threading stories through hair silver and proud.

I recall the Peloponnese, Crete’s long shadows,

Sails catching whispers the old gods once spoke,

Waters and I, old companions,

They rocked me through sleepless hours,

Salt on my skin, spirit steady against the world’s heavy yoke.

The islands split—Ionian, Aegean—

But beneath stars, boundaries blur,

I navigated by instinct, by scent,

By the ever-changing blue’s gentle stir.

Each island, a world alone—

Corfu’s Venetian arches, hills thick with green,

Kefalonia’s wild cliffs, sunlit and keen,

Ithaki, where Odysseus lingers unseen,

Zakynthos, Shipwreck Bay’s gemlike sheen.

Eptanisa, seven isles to the sailor’s mind,

But always more—harbors veiled,

Nameless islets, secrets left behind,

Anchors dropped where only lull of water hailed.

Some islands gave me only stone and solitude,

Others opened in song and wine,

Fresh fish on the tongue,

Bare feet twirling in courtyards

Where ancient melodies entwine.

I dozed to goats’ bells fading past the groves,

Evening gold on the olive trees,

In every place, a proud people—

Sun-kissed, rooted, heritage lived with ease.

Tradition flowed not as antique weight,

But as breath and motion,

Alive as the waves,

Tide after tide, emotion upon emotion.

They say you seek yourself on these islands—

But I needed only to remember,

And the sea—blessed, restless,

Held my memories, gentle and tender.