Old
Buildings and
Abandoned
Churches
Chipped,ripped
Open like the
Guts of a fish
Spilling out
Onto the wet,grey
Cobblestones.

In the cruelest
Month of May.

The black earth
Clawed by cannons,
Explosions rocked the hearth,
Ships swaying in their berths.

White bones bleached
Under warm desert sands;
As black crows circled through
Ancestral cloudy memories:
Blue desert orchids and
Wild red poppies.

They drank
Their tea in
Istanbul and
Laughed:

"Who will
Remember them?"

Demonic grins
Of a sinful race.

In the cruelest
Month of May.

Does the
Desert remember
Their sorrows?

The children that
Where never born
From mothers
Hanging crucified
On forests of crosses
On the Anatolian plains;
That where never blessed
With the joys of love
And childbirth.

The walls shuddered,
Plaster crumbling on the floor
As the clock thudded
To explosions of
Hollow remorse echoing
From cannons across
The plains of time.

The coldness spilling
Onto the streets,
The empty streets,
The desolate streets;
With the hookers,
Pimps and
Revisionists
Gathering like
Blowflies under
Midnight lampposts.

Armenian mother,
Armenian girl;
They deny you now,
But will the world
Remember your
Pain?

In the cruelest
Month of May.

 *******************************

With a digital drawing from Nikos Laios

********************************

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