Echoes of a Silent Island

Fifty years have come and gone,
Since shadows fell on Cyprus' dawn,
An isle of sun, now marked by grief,
Its heart still seeks a lost relief.

Turkish boots on peaceful ground,
A land once whole, now sorrow-bound,
Thirty-seven percent in chains,
Despite the world's unresolved refrains.

The olive trees still whisper tales,
Of unity that once prevailed,
Now barbed wire and scars define,
The fractured lines of time’s design.

Villages where laughter soared,
Now ghostly echoes, silence roared,
Families torn, their roots unknown,
In exile's ache, their hearts have grown.

UN words, though strong and clear,
Fell on the world's unhearing ear,
Resolutions, empty cries,
Injustice thrives as freedom dies.

Yet hope, like dawn, still breaks anew,
In every heart, a fervent hue,
For peace, for home, for land reclaimed,
For all the memories, unashamed.

Oh Cyprus, dear, your tears may flow,
For decades past, and wounds of woe,
But in the souls who love you true,
A dream of unity will pursue.

So let this sad anniversary,
Be not just marked by history,
But by the hope that still persists,
In every Cypriot heart that resists.

ChatGPT AI - 4 July 2024