I received love
with open arms – my Lord
and they remained open.

Open arms
are the prologue of a hug.

Open arms
are the sign of freedom

but they are also the design
of a hurting Christ.


Love is not only
a chemical formulation
where the attraction occurs
in the rhythm of the blood
where two in discipline
in their own substance.
It is the alchemy
of a miracle
where souls fuse
in the encounter.

It is you and I
beyond a plural
touching a time
without boundaries.

It is a universe
of a huge us.


True love
does not allow interruptions.

How can welded souls
be separated
when they have lost
their own shape
in the fusion?


Do not detach from me.
The loves that vanish
are not true love
but mirages.
The love that is
never stops being.

I am your first love
and the last
and the ones in between.

I am all the women
whenever you loved
and every time you will.

I am
love itself.


Tonight I could love forever.

I could cross the universe
mounted on the frequency
of the wildest dreams.

Tonight I could unlock my chains
create a soulmate
with the endless energy
of those who pray
and I could travel through matter
bless the earth
and build a new crown
for magic.

I have conquered death.



You do not have life yet
and you bring me life.

You are in the passage
of the beginning
illuminating me
from your shadows.

And although
you do not have a name
you are not anonymous for me.

You are my child
and that is enough.


Without knowing you
I recognize you
without touching you
I embrace you.

You are the voice
in my life chart.

People think
I give you life
but we both know
we give birth
to each other.

the child
the mother.

You are
the incarnated miracle
that will transform me
into a mother….

My child.
Coming from impossible dreams

you are in me
and yet
I am waiting for you.


…Maybe others
will not remember me
but your cells
will never forget
they were part of mine
a bonded substance
of matter and love.

The day I depart
do not believe in my absence.
I will be in the dreams
that will nourish
your sleep….

I wanted to offer you
the kind of childhood
and happiness
that was stolen from me.

If I failed
try to forgive me.
The last word is yours.

But remember always
that my love for you
will be your shelter forever.

Beyond words.

Beyond life.

Beyond death.



…And God
entered my bedroom
without slippers
engraving the message
with divine footprints.

We became friends
at a glance.

God already knew my soul
and could recognize
the scars from hurricanes
on my back.
And He wished to make justice
in secret – for the moment –
entering quietly.
Without a whisper.

…God was barefoot.
…And I rearranged my bedroom.


…Prayers that remain unanswered
do hurt me.
How are Yours
my Lord?
To whom do You pray?


I’m asking You to listen
who are the beyond
of the most remote beyond….
who let us perceive
the atoms of Your light…
allow me this irreverence
this interview
with the appearance
of a monologue
with several voices
or a questionnaire
or a complaint
or a simple imploration
with refracted answers
which I dare to conceive
in my abysmal solitude.

who shape infinity
and schedule
our finite lives
help us detect
the origin of truth.
Invade our beings
with its essence
so we can reject
the ancestors of evil.

I will send my voice
to Your universe
and I will wait for the sign
of Your final answer.



…And what is life
if not an endless monologue
walking toward death?

…And what is death
if not and equally
endless monologue
imitating life?

…And the carrousel
of existence
repeats its senseless

But is it truly senseless
when two souls can share
an unshareable loneliness?


What is the mystery
of eternity
that it can be locked
in a minute of waiting
a second of absence
a split second of need?
How can time stretch
when existence burns
with nonexistence?
How many eternities
have I still to fold up
and put aside
until I see you?
Where are you?


Sometimes I am bothered
by those words
I do not pronounce
because after a long wait
they die
and I remain full of dead words.



I would like to buy
the face of my childhood.
To take it out
of the photo album
of refugees
and draw it identically
in another land
- that of my ancestors –
newly born
from the fires
because in spite
of all the lives
I have lived
I am still not myself.

I would like to wander
through the streets
of that land
pregnant with freedom
where bones
were burst
with gun powder
on a bed of flags.

I would like to touch
that land
to feel my past
in its fragrance
and reclaim
my essence.

Note: This prophetic poem was written some 25 years prior to the 1991 declaration of independence in Armenia.



When silence goes
beyond sound
we shall be revealed.

When space stops
at the idea
and gives form and life to it
we shall accomplish
impossible dreams
we shall be the creators
of light
and shall touch the truth.


Everything will change.

When the surprise
surprises itself
the mirrors will resign
from the images…

A new dawn will announce
the reign
of the unfairly dethroned
and truth
will inaugurate
the always.

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Copyright © 2005-2009 Alicia Ghiragossian