A Poem of Julfa Cemetary
Who knows this place ancient Armenian land?
Jasmine uplifting fragrance, Shushan yellow lily flowers whirling through
Julfa Cemetery 10,000 Khachkars (Armenian Stone Crosses)
Vertical tombstones. Intricately carved volcanic basalt
My brain bursts with the want of
Knowing my ancestors who made stone into lace
Tree of Life, wheel of eternity suns
Nightingales singing to rams horns
Silk and spice caravans
Weaving through
Cardamom cinnamon breezes
Hospitable Armenian hearth
Warming walnut brandy
Engraved treasured books.
Kissed trees with offerings
Of tied cloth for the sick.
Neighbors who help plant
Swaying wheat fields,
Take turns bringing sheep
To pasture at dawn
The stars are the lamps
Of their souls that
Worshipped both
The moon and sun.
Just wanted to live in peace
But situated on Near East
Western Asia crossroads
Of many colonizing powers
Who coveted everything.
What fate guided Armenia to convert
To the first Christian nation 301AD?
What destiny? We call it “Chakatagir.”
The mark on our foreheads
Did our eagle eyes see
Persecution, Abduction, and Genocide?
Did our harmonic ears ever hear
So many prayers unanswered?
Sacred Khachkars atop
Three wind swept hills face
Churning Araxes river
Which hold the bones of
Forcibly deported Armenians drowned 1604 Persian Muslims
Burned centuries of heritage flaming homes, manuscripts
Thick smoke rises covering the sun
Another conqueror Azerbaijan forced out remaining Armenians
Invaders now occupying my maternal grandparents homeland
My beloved tatig Sandoukt
Obsidian strength inside me
Souls of departed become birds
Perched on the incense tree
Radiated by generational
Khachkar spiritual survival strength
Fear power of buried dead exposing
Whose ancestral land this really was
Venomous swarm of Azeri soldiers fed on hate 2005
With heavy sledge hammers, axes
Smashed precious Khachkars to bits
Bulldozed imprisoned Julfa cemetery
Now Azeri army base and training camp
Soldiers marching over Armenian bodies
UNESCO toothless puppet Azerbaijan
Pulling strings of allowed Cultural Genocide
Now Azeris say “No Armenian ever lived here”
But even violated rocks have memory
These fractured rocks remember their whole,
Record the stress of separation
Enslaved as part of enemies construction
Yet still breathe their past honored lives
My soul hovers over vandalized epitaphs
Spirits of the destroyed Khachkars
Talk to me; tell me to write this poem
Encouraging you to search for photos
To see our stone love
While I search for a place
To put my flowers in the vase
Of the shattered and disappeared
(2018)
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Source: Armenian Weekly
Link: Even Violated Rocks Have Memories…
