I wrote this in response to a poem with the same title by my friend. After receiving permission to use the title, I wanted to share it here. It is dedicated to my best friend to whom I am honored to be married for over ten years now. This will also have to speak for itself…

I’ll let this one speak for itself. I had to write this poem after a dinner conversation last week with a friend of mine.

Զանգի Ձայնը
Օտար եղա ես կարոտած,
Այս ցուրտ երկրի ամպերի տակ,
Կանչեց հայրենիքս աչքերով թաց,
Ծով ու երկնքով իր կապուտակ:
Երազ է սա վստահ եմ ես,
Չեմ տեսել ուրիշ դեպքում,
Որ մի երկիր խոսի այդպես,
Զավակի հետ իր աքսորում:
Կգա մի օր, որ կարթնանա,
Ժողովուրդն իմ մոլորված,
Կղողանջի իր զանգը նա,
Եվ կկանչի մեզ գրկաբաց:
Ու հստակ է, որ այն պահին
Եվ ոչ մի հայ չի դիմանա
Զանգի ձայնին ու իր սրտին,
Տուն կգնա և կիմանա,
Որ երազ չէ սա,
Այլ երազանք,
Մի պարզ հոգու
Սրտի խորքում:

As I perused my journals from the past, another theme emerged. It was obvious that I was going through an intense emotional struggle in my first couple years adjusting to my new environment. Sometimes when the times seem difficult, people seem cruel, and the environment seems unbearable, you must remind yourself a few thoughts:

These times do not last forever.
They are not as bad as it may seem.
Many people around you care about you and are ready to help.
Someone next to you has it harder.
You can handle far more difficult challenges.
You …

My father brought back from my childhood home my journal where I had written a few poems in my teenage years. As I read them again, I was struck by the contrast of the feelings I must have had when writing these and the complete lack of any feelings currently for the objects of my childhood love. Coincidentally, a friend recently also posted Life probabilities: Memories …. Aside from my slowly fading and gradually distorted memories of the past, that journal is the only evidence left from my emotional teenage …