Don´t show me
the coffins of children
with that deafening
orchestral scoring

My sadness
doesn´t need a soundtrack

What do you want from me
masters of montage
and emotional chord

Don´t let me hear
the Armenian tongue
of my school days
from the mouths of children
their lives
forever raped

the familiar words
A sound,
Are you afraid of the bullets? The filmmaker says
But you still go to school
Nods from the two girls

in my tongue
in my words
that I have
though they live inside me

my grandmother´s cradle
before she sailed ´cross
the Atlantic

My flesh and blood
The people with the names
I do not know

The churches
that turned to rubble heaps
The prayer
we used to sing at school
it makes me cry
though I am not religious
and our god
is not mine

The prayer
Lord in Heaven
protect us
bring your kingdom to us

Our Kingdom lost
and April is coming

It will be
a hundred year soon

A hundred years
and nothing has changed

Someone´s grandmother
in Syria
has been born
and her mother
is smuggling her
right now
to save her life
and cross oceans perhaps

so that I
can have
my blissful life

in a quiet place

Syria of my heart

hurt over the scar
the pillaging

the ravage
over the Genocide

Featured image: Kessab childhood by Lalai Manjikian

Related Posts with Thumbnails

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge