Last night I had a dream. From where I live in Florida, we can see NASA rocket launches from outside our window. So I saw one go up and called to my wife to come watch, she bringing my young son. But the rocket broke into pieces in the sky and the pieces turned toward us, like missiles. We ran back inside and ducked under the table as everything exploded. The nightmare shocked me awake. I am half a planet away from Azerbaijani bombardment, and still it haunts me. I have a comfortable life, I am not at the war front nor is anyone in my family. But I still feel the pain of Armenia. It still effects my sleep. I still struggle against stress and despair over it.
And I can’t do enough. I can’t really do anything much. I’m even too poor to send much money to Armenia Fund or other charities. I have signed petitions and given the Armenian National Committee of America permission to send messages to people in the US government on my behalf. I have done a few posts on Facebook. Other than that all I have “thoughts and prayers“, for all the good that does.
For any non-Armenian American that might be reading this, I would compare it to how many felt after September 11, 2001. Mourning, scared, and this overwhelming guilt. Like you feel selfish for enjoying anything at all, while there are people dying. At the same time, distractions are the only things that help. I also try to focus on the limited things I can control in my life. My art, my family.
Anyway, I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I have been to Artsakh and even though it was only for five days it occupies a special place in my heart. And it is sad that it no longer looks as it did when I was there five years ago. I should probably do a blog entry about my stay. Perhaps that is forthcoming. Anyway, for the moment this is the picture I have to share right now. It is a wall from the Museum of Fallen Soldiers in Stepanakert, Artsakh. I hope the building remains undisturbed.
Rest in peace, dear warriors.
No comments:
Post a Comment