Grandmother
I cry you Urmi
I cry you Salmas...
I cherish your soil
a soil soaked with the blood of the forty thousand Assyrians...
Mothers, Fathers, sons and daughters
grandparents and infants...
I want to feel the silence of the
plains
deep down in my veins...
I want to fly to Kochanis and Hikkari
smell the vinyards and the fields...
hum on the tunes of a shabiba
a fare well song
to a land that was mine and yours...
touch the souls of those Angels of
Ashur
who perished just for being Assyrians
laying underneath those rocks unrestful...
I want to hover over those cemeteries
and mass graves
just one last time...
before I face my grandmother
and tell her about that tree which grew beside her forgotton grave
on the side of that dirt road
where she departed this world...
I lay down in my bed every night
look at the shadows of darkness on the wall
and imagine her young face
which I never met...
I cry you dearest...
and I wish if I can just for once
hide myself in your arms
and feel the warmth of the Grandmother I never had....