The Armenian Church

Pointed domes

Volcanic

As the mountain

That gave its name

To a language

And its people

Carved in the mountainside

Or in lament upon vast plains

The dome kept its support

When arches fell

In silence

But

Height exceeds length

As the church still stands

In the Highlands

Where a people defied

And remained

Baptismal water

From the font of ages

Drained into the red soil

And became blood

Itself

It may be basalt or volcanic tuff

Yet when it lies upon

A pagan temple in peace

Every stone becomes a gift

An offer

And a chant

Far are the fields

And high remain the mountains

Where Jupiter, Juno and Minerva

Gave the sacred scale

To build columns

And defy hate

And defy time

Time to be patient

Time to not forget

For stones may return to earth

But pointed domes

Of that volcanic mountain

Will always

Call

Its people

Home

March 11, 2020

©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2020