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a bad dream

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This morning my son asked me “Dad why I don’t see dreams lately?” So do I, I replied. “Why does this happening?” “It just happens sometimes”.

However if he was older I would tell him that there are some people whose souls are haunted by a big wicked darkness. So big that can steal the dreams even of little angels. These are the thieves of hope, the murderers of tomorrow, and these black demons of the Apocalypse who, through their darkness, come to pollute whatever pure and bright our planet has, the children hearts.

And unfortunately, some children, not only ceased to dream, but they see nightmares while are awake. I do not know how all this is going to end. It seems endless ...

I am stigmatised by the images I saw in Idomeni during 2015-2016 and the stories I heard from the remnants of the war.

How to forget the hikes of the hungry refugees, the holes in their shoes, the bloodied feet.
Babies that arrived from turkey to Greek islands arriving to Eidomeni on a one-day trip, still wet, in the winter.
The father with the 10-year-old child in his arms and the bullet in his leg.
The grandfather with the three orphaned grandchildren which took them from their home when he heard the bullets in his village, knowing that his son and his daughter in law dead.

The father with the little son who saw his mother to be raped and murdered with his two older brothers.
And so many other stories that are just stories to us, but for some a living nightmare. These are happening every day for so many years.
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The planet is silent about the unjust blood, but the blood shouts.

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