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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.