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GRANDFATHER By Ani Boghossian My grandfather turns quiet when hearing about death The inexplicable Dragging its cloak across our ancient rug Distracting dust and careless things The mundane work The house, The family, The television news, Our garden, his trees And people Who pass away at noon. My grandfather is watering the quince tree And salt has dried the crust of stranger things Harsher still the sky is getting blue A bruise on the skin of God We penetrate the window, watching our granddad Pulling out the weeds with his perceptive hands Afraid to spill the soil Devouring the light, his silver hair Disquieting the things that are to come. I call his name He nods And things are silent once again. © 2013 Ani Boghossian -- Ani Boghossian was born in Echmiadzin back in cold, dark 1989. She still lives in Echmiadzin, yet went to school in Yerevan ("Aghasi Ayvazyan" Varjaran). She studied International Relations at Yerevan State University and currently works at the Armenian Assembly of America and also at the Foundation of Preservation of Wildlife and Cultural Assets. Ani translated David Phillips' book "Unsilencing the Past" into Armenian. She maintains a blog: http://www.facebook.com/l/5264c33utQE1q2RXG9Pk1gHt0Sw/nurpages.wordpress.com She writes in English and in Armenian and draws and paints as well.