Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
There are evenings
when silence speaks to me in your voices,
and this house,
though it has walls,
remains empty without the sound of your footsteps.
It is not loneliness that weighs on me,
but the absence of the embrace
that only a mother truly knows.
Each day I measure time,
not by hours,
but by longing.
I wait for a phone call,
a smile on the screen,
a simple, “How are you, Mom?”
that warms my soul.
You are far away,
building your dreams,
while I remain here,
keeping the light burning in the window,
just as I once did
when I waited for you to come home from the yard.
My prayers
know the way to you.
They do not stop at borders,
nor are they lost across the seas,
for a mother’s heart
will always find the heart of her child.
And when longing turns into tears,
I do not hide them.
I let them fall,
because every single drop
carries a blessing for you.
Until the day
I can hold you close to my heart once again,
I will live with the hope
that distance is only a road,
never a separation.
Even in a foreign land,
you remain the homeland of my heart.
You are my first prayer,
my final strength,
and the reason why, each day,
I await the return of the light with unwavering faith.
