🌿 “Island of Echoes” – A Poem for the Cypriots 🌿
They came with sandals kissed by Rhodes,
Sun-drenched hearts and winds that flowed.
To Cyprus — not as conquerors bold,
But seekers of olive, water, gold.
Beneath the carob trees they prayed,
Their tongues a hymn the waves obeyed.
With Samaritan grace in every bone,
They made this rugged island home.
Not empire’s echo, not foreign creed,
But earth-bound hands that plant and feed.
They carry scrolls in silent blood,
Stories whispered through olive buds.
A people scattered, yet rooted deep,
In mountains quiet, where ancestors sleep.
Their past a tapestry softly sewn —
By seafoam, saints, and fields they've grown.
So let us sing with wine and fire,
Of Cypriots bold, who never tire.
Greek of heart, Samaritan flame,
An island people — none the same.