I am Armenia

By Michael Vakian

I am Armenia
I am the land of apricot and oak tree
My bones are mountains
My breath stone
My blood flows in rivers that do not forget
My soul is dance and song.

I am the apricot tree
Golden skin that ripens in the sun,
My seed is carried across oceans
To be planted in soil foreign
Yet the taste is always of home.

I am the Oak,
My roots run  through the highlands
Singing centuries of our struggle,
Branches raised in prayer
Never yielding through storm or fire.

I am the stone,
The breath of the arches of Ani,
My thousand churches
That whisper  their prayers into the wind.
Though silence fills the streets,
The hymns endure,
Carved in every wall.

I am the Rivers
Arax and Akurian,
Their waters remember.
Carrying the voices of the Fedayi,
The grief of exile.
Yet still I flow,
Bearing memory to the sea.

I am dance
As feet strike the earth
In circles of sorrow and of joy.
I am song,
The lament of the Duduk
The strum of the Oud
Weaving centuries into breath
My children scattered,
They rise when the music is played.

I am Armenia.
Scattered but not broken,
They tried to silence us
Yet I rise again,
Like the mountain of my people.