Redistribution of Groong articles, such as this one, to any other
media, including but not limited to other mailing lists and Usenet
bulletin boards, is strictly prohibited without prior written
© Copyright 2003 Armenian News Network/Groong. All Rights Reserved.
THERE ARE MEN STANDING NEAR THE ENTRANCE By Ara Arzumanian They'll stand there forever, you know, if we let them There are men standing there with knives and guns A rope Waiting for someone like me to walk by To walk proudly by, boisterously, confidently by I decide to oblige them I walk by I carry a knife and a gun and a rope with me They watch me walk by. They grind their teeth, they snarl, they watch me walk by My boots have heels, I seem taller I've a large dog with me. They watch me walk by. And I'm one man and I'm leaving so they let me enter There are men standing near the entrance They'll stand there forever. There are men standing there with knives and guns and a rope You know, deep inside they're good men, just misinformed just misguided Well after all I must enter, and after all I hope that they'll also enter with me I bring with me some bread and a book and I ask them to partake They devour the bread and knock the book out of my hands. They mock me and ask me to leave kindly. Its okay. I'll bake more bread and I wipe the dirt off of my book. I'll be back next year. There are men standing near the entrance They've stood there long enough with their knives and guns and their rope I convince my friends, our men, that we should go together, to the entrance, with knives and guns and a rope of our own. We're tall and have thick leatherish faces, we bring with us some dogs. We're a force. To be reckoned with. We draw near to the entrance, with a group of women and old people and children following us. Engage I'm in now, beyond the darkness of the entrance I see a group of men, like myself, with knives and guns come to the entrance. The men standing there engage them. These men are like myself, only in groups I decide to do something. And so, from the rear, I engage. I stab a man and shoot two, my dog attacks a third, before I am shot Many men from our group die. All of the men from near the entrance die. We shoot them and stab them and our dogs attack them. We die some of us. Those that remain, lead our people through the entrance where we post men with knives and guns to keep those that would keep us out out. -- Ara Arzumanian was born in Tehran, Iran and grew up in Glendale, California. He has a B.A. in English from the University of California in Irvine. He was a founding member and Editor-in-Chief of Usanogh Periodical of Armenian Students until 2001. He works with at-risk youth in the city of Glendale and writes poems and short stories in English.