For David

The streets of Stepanakert are lined

With bags.

The streets surrounding Stepanakert are lined

With guns.

With armor.

With shields.

With hatred.

With philistines.

Echoes from the past become louder

As children cry sitting among these bags

filled with their toys of little lions and teddy bears.

They say history repeats itself.

Pray it repeats itself.

Long ago when an entire civilization was almost destroyed,

And their bodies threatened by the enemy to be fed to vultures and tossed to wolves

Without a grave,

Without a rite,

Without a prayer,

Without dignity,

Without humanity,

It was a bag that saved them.

A shepherd’s bag.

For David

had his bag,

his five smooth stones,

his sling,

his hope,

his faith that God would not forsake him.

The Armenian youth of Stepanakert

Also face the giant with just their bags.

We must all be their rocks.

Our voices must be as loud as the vortex of air surrounding the sling

as David snapped it back

and slew Goliath.****