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Author Archive
Marineh Khachadour |  A Letter to My Mother

Marineh Khachadour | A Letter to My Mother

Dear Mother, Here I am in my beloved Armenia again, away from you. I know you resisted my return to the homeland mainly because you wanted me near you, so you would care for me and protect me like you always have. I have felt safe and secure in your belly, in your arms, in...
Mher Arshakyan | Woe to us…

Mher Arshakyan | Woe to us…

Our life changes every day. And woe to us, if we have no role in those changes. And again woe to us, if we have a role and the result is this. Woe to actors, who return home through a backdoor of life, where even the creak of the door is unchanged. Woe to journalists,...
David Poghosyan | Delusion

David Poghosyan | Delusion

The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with heart.                                 Helen Keller Part 1 Revelation My father is a pilot. I’m very connected with him, he...
Marineh Khachadour | Children of War

Marineh Khachadour | Children of War

My husband has purchased an old Zhiguli from a Yezidi young man for $400. It is white with golden velvet interior. “Fit for a lamb,” Charlie jokes as he straps Arpa, our almost two-year-old son, on the back seat. I sit next to him, so I may quickly reach for him if a need arises....
Souren Sarumyan | The Burner of Memories

Souren Sarumyan | The Burner of Memories

The boy was carefully hiding Grandpa’s photo under the mattress with his head on the pillow, pretending asleep. On the weather-stained photo Grandpa was still young – he was standing by a big round table and sadly smiling. Grandpa’s fists were big, almost in size with the table. Even in the dead of the night,...
Mher Israelyan | Unimaginable Cheesies for Jeff Bronson

Mher Israelyan | Unimaginable Cheesies for Jeff Bronson

Dedicated to Brussels American School “The Earth is round and rotates not just around the sun, but also around its own axis,” I explain to five-year old Davit. “Round, like the khachapuri Mother bakes?” Davit’s eyes grow round. “Round like the sun, except that the sun does not move, it just sends its warmth to...
The Shepherd of the Mounts

The Shepherd of the Mounts

Mounts… high, emerald mounts… You, that are the land and throne of the gentle  breeze, sweet-scented flowers, sacred verdure and dews, of lively, cold springs, gloomy clouds, igneous lightnings, gush of waters… You, that are so close to the Almighty, the stars, the moon, to the celestial grants and mysteries, solemn and majestic mounts… Is...
Zareh Khrakhuni | The unowned field

Zareh Khrakhuni | The unowned field

It is waiting. On this side of the dam The thirsty field is waiting To fulfill its thirst. On the other side The reservoir is swollen With water. It is waiting. On this side of the dam The field is waiting To be immersed. On the other side A river bleeds the water away Like...
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian | Under my skin

Silva Zanoyan Merjanian | Under my skin

 Silva Zanoyan Merjanian is a widely published poet who grew up in Beirut, Lebanon. She moved to Geneva during the Lebanese civil war after personally experiencing the devastation of her beloved country. She later settled in California to raise her two sons with her husband. Her poetry reflects a little of what she took with...