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.