Before the Silence

by Sofia Kontogeorge Kostos

Can an unknown tragedy be forgotten?
Lost in a maze of unknowing
Mistaken in the realm of forgot and forgotten
Hungered for answers
From books, but they were stolen.
I summoned Cleo, the muse of history
She fed me rare books and vintage news
Revealing truths impossible to forget

Roaring red-black skies
Seen and heard for miles.
Fires set on a hot September Tuesday afternoon, 1922.
Devils' infernos too vast to douse down.
Devoured the ancient city of Smyrna
Where Homer was born, and early Christians walked,
Christians, not there any more

Three, days after the fires
Only blackened-skeleton structures remained.
A heavy stench of burned bodies hung in the air
and hot-thick ashes smothered the earth.
Far as Japan, headlines blared
"Turks Will Be Turks"

Like gray wolves, Turkish soldiers lurked inside shadows
Waiting for fire winds to blow down
Towards where Christians dwelled.
Turkish quarters were safe, atop the hill.
Cued by downward winds, the soldiers struck their ready matches
Sparking kerosene-soaked rags through the streets.
Flames expanded as Turkish soldiers growled
"Turkey for the Turks!"
Their howls echoed through the night:
"Their wives shall be widows,
and their children orphans."

Some day, if you visit Izmir, once called Smyrna,
If you hear cries in the night, or screams in the wind,
Remember, Christians once lived there
Before the silence

Source: Sarafian, Ara (ed.), Forgotten Genocides of the 20th Century, Taderon Press, London and Reading, p. 58-59.