PASSWORDS By Diana Der-Hovanessian We don’t need a huge vocabulary. Say “Dikran” and the walls of Dikranagerd rise. Say “Ani” and a hundred church bells peal in a wild shower of sound. Say “Der Zor” and the Euphrates sinks to a dried blood dusty bed. With “Yerevan” multi-colored fountains bloom. Say “tsaks” and your mother’s smile crosses time like light. ARMENIAN The name does not mean much to us. We call ourselves Hai after Noah’s great, great, grandson....
I was born bilingual but… The Armenian language is the music of my childhood, the sweet taste of everything that was home. It is my lost treasure, halved and bartered; the dream that comes to haunt the English language dream. It is the echo of the ages, the shadow of old giants, but palpable. Yes, we made it. We are part of it, this gift we are letting drift away....
WHAT THEY SAY IN KARABAGH For centuries we have fed it our blood and our bone. For centuries we have swallowed its bread and its stones. Nothing will tear us from this land that we call home. AT THE MINAS AVEDISYAN MUSEUM A fire like Gorky’s (What can be worse?) burning your life and all and all its work? I search your colors trying to find what was so threatening to a proleteriate mind?...