April 24, 2023
No April is Good April
Never a year, never a tear spared dries away
memory swells for the smell of genocide in spring
Turks past fat Sultan
decaying imperial spectacle, now modern, young, hopeful, ruthless, slipping a
little French lingo to class up their base coat of red barbarisms. A little
German discipline into armies of flake warriors eager to abuse and haunt till
death women children and old folks in desert marches
Ruthless to the point of perfection.
Duplicitous by nature. insincere in every limit. Rabid. Driven. Permanent
Menace to every neighbor, every friend, every civilized sphere.
And what might we bring? A carton of love. no
conquest. No shove. A people
yearn. A song book in the rain. crosses. processions,
Castles, towers, churches buckling under
bullet holes and cannon fire by army recruits just for thrills and heartless
traces of self-loathing.
Birds we call our own,
call back, hark, hawk, horror, churn.
empty streets as
Empty cribs as wombs,
Drones aimed at our foreheads dialed up by
surname. Drones cheap
and slender. Israeli, Turkish, garnished with bombs and hatred rain upon us as
April bites and draws blood once again.
108 Aprils greet each Armenian with anguish
louder than justice demands as our forgone refrain.
Bedros Afeyan is a theoretical physicist who works and
lives in the Bay Area with his wife Marine. He writes in Armenian and in
English, and also paints and sculpts. He is the current editor of The Literary Groong.