The Armenian Hill Fort At Namrun Poem by Len Webster

A strident stir through dust and history,
Clambering, mistakenly, up forgotten paths,
I reached the summit among the mountains
And rested on stonework pillaged by generations.

The Elephant, majestic, stood above,
Its snow-clad rock hump melting
As a biting sun shone down.
The muezzin echoed in the valley.

Here the Cross was brought from far
Into another Promised Land
By another promised people,
A race much slaughtered and abused.

This was their weathered centre, near to heaven,
But, like all centres near to heaven,
It had to fall from grace,
To be left as a testament to struggle.

Not for the first time, I reflect:
The course of history is the important fact,
The course of memory unclear,
The ruin much greater than the act.