Diana Der Hovanessian’s latest in Ararat.
By Diana Der Hovanessian via Ararat Magazine
Even the thistle is tender this spring.
Its spines and needles draw no blood from the past
where the fallen stone eagle closes black eyes
waiting, waiting for the temple to rise,
waiting for the altars and circular walls,
curious about the god ascending the throne,
anxious for architects who for centuries failed
to duplicate the miracle that stood in this place.
Its first architect impatient for lightning to strike
heard thunder and called it his sign for the site
and Zvartnots rose, Zvartnots rose,
so dazzling beholders praised sight and not source.