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....

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