National Poetry Month happens to be celebrated in April, and this year, I was listed as one of ten Greek-American poets by Maria Karamitsos on her website. She highlights my poetry book Candlelit Journey: Poetry from the Heart. Maria is a journalist and the founder/publisher/editor of WindyCity Greek Magazine. She currently writes for Neo Magazine.
Here is the link to the listing:
https://www.mariakaramitsos.com/2025/04/national-poetry-month-10-greek-american-poets/
Here is a little background to this poem. I have been noticing a dichotomy between people who strive to get ahead, to achieve, to reach their potential and those who accept what is handed to them, doing the bare minimal, and not achieving their potential. Of course, I am generalizing, and there is a danger in generalizing, but for the sake of the poem, I simplified my reasoning about the complexities of life.
I tend to be in the group that achieves, and sometimes it is difficult to stop, because stopping means death. Anyway, I came across a passage about the river from a novel, suggested recently by a member of a forum, and it inspired me to write this poem about the river.
All That is Missing: Early Spring
A row of crocuses, light purple fluff,
are lined under the dogwood.
The nearby daffodils have not thrust their
green stems from the ground, yet,
soon to become crowned glory.
The irises, rose bushes, dogwood, and fig trees
are still hibernating, waiting patiently
for warmer weather.
But today, in March, it is a
warm, sunny day, inviting me outside.
I step on the deck, facing the sun's beams.
I pull up my sleeves and pant legs
revealing arms and legs white as Mulberry silk.
With a single-minded purpose,
I walk on the cement path that used to surround a pool,
enjoying the spring breeze.
I reach the wooden chair that sits near the raised bed.
I carry it to the deck and place it, facing the sun.
I sit there for a few minutes, feeling the warm rays
on my thirsty skin. I must soak in the sun daily, but
in increments, because I burn easily.
Now all that is missing is you.
March 12, 2025
Ipatia (Patty) Apostolides
I am sharing an interview I had with author Peni Jo Renner. Here is the link to that interview:
https://authorpenijorenner.wordpress.com/2025/03/02/meet-author-patty-apostolides/
There are times in one's life when losses happen, and no one is immune to them. At some point, we will either lose a family member, a friend, a pet, one's health, or even a dream. At the beginning of April 2025, I lost my dear sister Irene (we called her Rena), who had been battling cancer for over 15 years.
She was my older sister. The girl I used to run to and from elementary school with, chugging up and down that long hill, intent on being the first to arrive, but she was always the first. And when little black kids were chasing us home and trying to beat us up, we ran even faster. She protected me, fighting back and knowing what to say while I was tongue-tied. She ran faster than I, and by the time we reached middle school, the family had moved to another neighborhood. There, my sister and I joined the Junior Olympics. We sprinted in the dashes and relays. We had put our running to good use.
As the years went by, Rena began to drive, then went to cosmetology school, got her license, and worked at a beauty salon. At an early age, just out of high school, she married John and moved away. The piano they found in the house they bought ended up in my parents' living room, where I taught myself to play piano. It was the best gift she could give me.
Their family grew, and with three young boys, they decided to move to Greece, to Lipsi island where my parents and her husband came from. There, they made a life of it. She formed a travel agency, and he managed tour boats that went to nearby islands. Her sons grew up to be tall and strong.
The years passed by. We visited them and they visited us. Their sons married and moved away.
In 2009, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and even after treatment, it progressed to stage 4, then it metastasized to the kidney, and she lost one of them. Each year, she would faithfully get her tests done, take her chemotherapy, dance, grow her gardens, laugh, and joyfully greet the tourists on the island. She would help with the olive picking in the fall. She lived her life to the fullest. She was loved by many.
But God had other plans.
Rest in Peace, dearest sister. Know that I love you and miss you dearly.
