Jack Antreassian: Farewell

I.

Will I see Yerevan again again
walk in the streets that intersect my past
inhale again the incense of dead ends

and hear the echo now receding fast 

the summons of ancestral pleas no more 

except perhaps by reveries possessed

no more however much I weep the door
between has rusted on its hinge I come
to you on knees turned red with blood and sore

but no one comes to me I wait in numb
expectancy invoking love and prayer
and worlds beyond your world if only some

could venture to this shore and with me dare 

beguile those wretched siblings joy despair

II

I see Armenia in my father's face
the age inscribed with twisted squirming lines
beneath a thin veneer of stoic grace

a smile not certain it should smile benign 

curved in a wistful arc small flecks of fear 

flawed diamonds out of place a crude design

of frayed illusions to redeem the cheer-

less image of a world not his but rude 

alternative to death the hymns he hears

are anthems of the dispossessed imbued 

with vestiges of faith the resonance 

an echo of a past aspersed pursued

by wilful demons taunting his laments 

forever victim of his innocence.

Ill

Others prevail who revel in their pride 

indulging fantasies of eminence 

insensitive to time's recessive tide

the brawling scavengers of violence 

who for their tribal glory sacrifice 

what lingers yet of love and innocence

heralds of genocide quick to devise 

a righteous warrant for a filial curse 

insinuating virtue in their lies

so many have excelled among them first 

the Turks discerned that hell has its rewards 

but not for us the slaughtered and dispersed

who seek not death although by death restored 

better to bare the neck than wield their sword.

Jack Antreassian, Armenia: Reflections in Verse, Ashod Press, New York, 1986.