We Armenians the genocided populace feel no longer the same

I’m no longer the same
My Psyche …physique is changed
Lost its power… its handsomeness
I’m no longer the same
After we lost so many sons …
After we lost our ancient lands …

I’m no longer the same
How can I be the same …?
I ask myself and my dear friends …
How can I be and feel the same…!

How can I stay the same
How can I treat my depressed dendrites…?
How can I smile from my inner hearty caves…?
How can I sleep happily without headaches…?
How can I dream and dance with my friends…?

Dreaming What… hoping for what…?
Dreaming my invaded lands …!
Antaib, Erzroum, Zaytoon, Sasun, Mush, Dikranagerd, Van…
and the recent one, Artsakh…?
Artsakh … The ancient name before Christ …
Not “Nagorno” … a Russian forced name
Neither “Karabakh” …Tataric invaded name

Dreaming what… lacrimating* till when … Chanting what?
Dreaming about our lost
Young Handsome Brave Innocent Sons
Who wanted only to protect their lands…?

We lost a clever generation …
Like we lost during the genocide
How can we bring them back
In which way…from which ground…?

No one arrived to help us …
No one cared
We were alone in this life
Still breathing alone on this Earth …

Shocking and shocked more
With closed eyes to see our youth fleshes… ‘holocausted’**
By whom?… By holocausted populace (the holocausters)…
Thru selling drones earning undignified blood-filled shekels…

Yes and ‘Mais’***…
We are called Armenians,
As our darling poet, Sevak said
We can never change our genes…our honest DNAs
We are born to care, serve and save humanity
of many faiths and many colors…from their pains…

Let us forget for some time our unreplaceable losses
We must face once again
For the sake of our arriving cohorts
Enchanting smiles on their faces…
Empowering them with our ancient brave history…

We must collect our left power
To feel brave, To Invent, To Create
And fight this ‘Unjust Life’
Which has no mercy on anyone…

We must never pray to any sun
Asking help by prayers…!
And how… how can any faith save us?
Prayers will evaporate like dew…

Prayers never saved us …
From wars … from viruses…
And will never save…
Yes… Will never save…!

*Lacrimating: Medical word for weeping.

**Holocaust: Holocausted: Holocausting: Holocausters (A new word created in my poetic dictionary: Glossary of Terms (neologisms)

***Mais: a French word for ‘but.’ For me, the English word ‘but’ is never a poetic word, sounds sharp, never soft.

Author information

Sylva Portoian-Shuhaiber, MD

Sylva Portoian-Shuhaiber MD, MS.c, MFPHM, FRCP.CH (UK) was born in Mesopotamia in 1945 to parents who suffered from the Armenian Genocide. She is a pediatrician trained in England, who has had articles published in several well-known medical journals. Sylva has presented her medical publications at international medical conferences. She started rhyming at age seven and discontinued after specializing in medicine. She recently started writing poems again; she has released 20 collections in three languages of poetry in less than a 12-year period. In the spring of 2009, she won The Carnegie Poetry Prize.

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