DEATH OF AN UNKNOWN 

Most likely
you also have a faded photograph in your family album:
in one row there are two middle-aged men and one elder,
a teenager,
a wrinkled grandma,
a young lady with a baby in her arms while pressing the other.
Tired with everyday responsibilities,
aging bodies covered by festive garments,
bridal rings at bleach scented fingers,
huge buns on children's heads,
worn garments fastened neatly,
combed hair and cut sideburns.
I do not recognize anybody in this photo,
no one’s nose looks similar to mine.
Life — is their joint agreement
to stand together in front of a camera.
Death — is the question to my father:
“Who are these people?”.

_Translated by Tatev Chakhian
unIDentical, 2016