Poetry
Artsakh in exile
Even silence in this land cannot
veil the muffled rage and screams
of age-old despair born of
a life robbed of its dreams.
Hatred born of alien creed
tramples all that memory was and is.
In this land of petrified cross,
wounded hope and evicted past.
killers of truth and faith spout—
in new terms of false redress—words of
justice, care and brotherhood,
order and openness….while in the north,
outraged, Mother Earth quakes its mantle and
tremors of death usher in new life.
By Tatul Sonentz (1989)
