sometimes my heart takes me
to the walled courtyards of the Old City
to the streets where my նենե (grandmother)
laughed and played
and carved her initials into stone

sometimes it calls me to
sandstone cities
and undulating deserts
where my ancestors fled and
where the mosque’s 
haunting prayers stir
my sleeping soul

sometimes i hear
the melancholy songs of
my mother tongue
and i long to stand on the հող (dirt)
half of my being was formed from,
to dig my toes into my
roots

sometimes i’m drawn towards
places i do not know, but
that i hear calling me

but louder than the voices
echoing in ancient monasteries
and stronger than the force of
my meandering spirit
is the pull to you 

you are where I ache to go back to