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
strikes
Don´t let me hear
the Armenian tongue
of my school days
from the mouths of children
displaced
bombed
their lives
forever raped
the familiar words
Vah
Tbrodz
A sound,
deadly,
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
forgotten
though they live inside me
Syria
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
somewhere
Syria
Syria
Syria of my heart
hurt over the scar
the pillaging
childslaughtering
the ravage
over the Genocide
Featured image: Kessab childhood by Lalai Manjikian
