Diana Der Hovanessian: Shifting the Sun

WHEN my father passed away on July 20, 2013, Joseph Saunders, a long-time friend in New York, email me a poem, writing: "I know this won't be of any immediate comfort, but here's a poem that I found very moving after my own father died several years ago (a friend of mine from childhood read it at my father's funeral)."

I read that poem. It was indeed very moving. It helped comfort me while doing the burial and various ceremonies in my hometown Jember, Java Island.

Diana Der Hovanessian (1934-2018) wrote this poem. She's an Armenian American poet, translator, and author. Much of the subject of her poetry is about Armenia and the Armenian diaspora.

She was a graduate of Boston University and did graduate work at Harvard. She taught workshops at many universities as well as being a visiting poet and guest lecturer on American poetry, Armenian poetry in translation, and the literature of human rights both here and abroad. She worked tirelessly to educate the public about the Armenian Genocide.

The Armenian Genocide was the ruthless slaughter of millions of Armenians by the Turks of the Ottoman Empire. In 1915, during World War I, the Turkish government set a plan to expel and massacre Armenians. By the early 1920s, when the massacres and deportations finally ended, between 600,000 and 1.5 million Armenians were dead, with many more forcibly removed from the country.


SHIFTING THE SUN

When your father dies, say the Irish
you lose your umbrella against bad weather.
May his sun be your light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Welsh
you sink a foot deeper into the earth.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians

When your father dies, say the Canadians
you run out of excuses.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Indians
he comes back as the thunder.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Russians,
he takes your childhood with him.
May you inherit his light say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the British,
you join his club you vowed you wouldn’t.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.

When your father dies, say the Armenians,
your sun shifts forever
and you walk in his light.