Poetry
She is the flame
A Mother’s Day tribute to the women of Armenia and Artsakh
Blazing beneath the broken breath of mountains,
Brave-browed mothers birthed the burdened dawn—
In blood-soaked soil, through silence shattered,
They rose relentless, when right was gone.
Garments torn but gazes granite,
They fed the flame from famine’s feast,
Smuggling sons past sword and slaughter,
And stitched in strength with every crease.
In 1915, when vultures veiled
In violet smoke tore through the dust,
She



