Aida Zilelian: Elegy for What I Cannot Write

I never wrote a poem about war.
As a child every storm shook
the walls of my home.

I never wrote a poem about war.
In classrooms I read the scene of Juliek
playing his violin in the Giewitz snowfall.

I never wrote a poem about war.
At six, I was given thick-bound books filled with
pages of my decapitated poets.

I never wrote a poem about war.
All my dears are toiling, fervent
as they cry out the death tolls of children.

I never wrote a poem about war.
I haven’t the right. How can I ever know
those sorrows. I dare not try.

I never wrote a poem about war.
Not even today when a cellist played
K[h]atchaturian on a pile of wreckage in Beirut.

I’ll never write a poem about war.
What can I say that hasn’t been said,
when I’m silenced into prayer for the dead
and the dying.



Aida Zilelian lives in New York City. This poem appeared in Decelaration.