He Walks Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

Aeneas is walking onto scorching stones,
he carries on his back his paralytic father
holds the hand of little child who bitterly cries:
“My dad is alive. I feel his hand, is still warm! '
Women without sandals walk by his side, totter,
walk to the edge of the horizon, such a wide cell.

Refugee Aeneas walks towards Italy,
not turning his head to see back the Trojans
as they fall from the breasts of Helen.
Walks and goes through Cyprus to meet
his mother Aphrodite, to retrieve together
the skull of Charita’s husband, lost or ignored,
to join it with his body and restore its integrity.

The refugee is the bravest of all men;
to walk forward he only needs the sun,
a tile in his hand to fix it above his head,
a boat to save himself, then to return home*.



© JosephJosephides