The Stray Dog

  ‘…

As twilight fell,

seeming strange in the snowy whiteness,

people hastened to shut themselves in their homes.

Voices and laughter are heard,

beings with a name

for those they love,

but a little further off they are unknown

and of no interest to others.

‘…’

The houses were still snow-covered

and inside, warmth and signs of plenty.

But outside the little lives seek in despair

for just a little food

which their anonymity deserved with a thousand toils to have

in this world which has ceased

to be theirs.

skylakos_gh_solon_org_gr_292

The eyes of the man unwillingly saw the dog again,

the whole of it buried in the piles of rubbish,

despairingly searching for

the salvation which others carelessly had thrown

into this place of non-existence.

The dog did not even turn to look at him.

And its certainty wounded the man again

that the coldness of his heart was so plain

‘…’

A simple turn in the road

was a turn of life,

there in the place of garbage

for the now familiar dog,

for the radiance of responsibility

of which the soul compassionately made a gift

to the calloused flesh

to remind it of the Light

which will dwell within it -

as if it always had.’

BIO-04_skylakos_292

From the poem ‘The Stray Dog’, by Ioanna Moutsopoulou

Cycle III: Faces of Life

To read the whole poem, please, click here to order the poetry collection ‘Souls of Nature’
and check on the availability of the book.

(Photographs by Yiannis Zisis)