He carried a small glass bottle,
just enough for a handful of soil.
Memories of the great flood, he said,
that took is homeland back to the sea.
He laughed, but the tears swelling
in his eyes burst down his cheeks.
Speaking softly he began reminiscing
the destruction of his hometown
by the silent wave.
One name was painted on his lips,
Yousaf Demitrious a local carpenter.
He explained in great detail how is friend
had saved many villagers from certain death.
I looked at him, he smiled back at me,
pointing to the surrounding walls.
He then started to explain the reason.
Yousaf built these walls with his bare hands,
he paused for a moment then smiled.
Pointing to a pile of bricks in the distance,
thats my old house, outside these walls on the hill.
Honorable mention
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