Noah and the Ark
“And the ark rested in the seventh month, on the seventeenth day of the month, upon the mountains of Ararat.
And the waters decreased continually until the tenth month, on the first day of the month, were the tops of the mountains seen.”
Genesis. 8. verses 4-5. King James Version of the Holy Bible.
Noah became a master carpenter
when he built the ark.
His sons beside him, he lit garnet stones for lamps,
red as pomegranate seeds,
so they could work on through the dark.
His tale is told, so old but still fresh to the young.
Children crayon it on paper,
those things they best remember,
Noah, the ark, the animals in pairs, guided up the ramps,
the rain, the flood, the raven, the dove, the olive leaf,
the mountain, the rainbow.
When they draw the event, the past is present,
time suspended, does not speed up or go slow.
You cannot own a mountain,
but you can bless it with a name.
On it they have dug for signs of the ark.
From the shelter of Yerevan,
the city built on the floor of its vale,
I have looked up to see its peak above its shoulders.
Even without the tale, it looks a holy hill.
We wait for the return of the dove,
the leaf it plucked from the olive tree in its beak,
the sign of the end of the flood,
so we can walk down the slopes of Ararat,
to enter the vineyard Noah planted,
like him in wonder speak.