The Tigris runs Red: Terror in Diyarbakir
Memoirs of a River
The ancient river flowed the crystal waters of old;
replaced with blood and woe,
she no longer sees
the world for which she pleas.
Once flowing through a Garden’s rest
now encases a world distressed.
With the Maker’s breath of life
she joined Creation in delight.
The keener kind’s Pride now known
provoked Creation to a groan.
Blood of Armenia fills the river red
from Diyarbakir martyrs blood was shed.
She beckons, come, neighbors, come.
His martyrs now home to weep no more
bodies, hearts and minds restored.
Their blood and woe soak the soil
till their Redeemer claims His spoil.
His song of Glory will ring to all
for a Redeemer lived unflawed.