BY PETER ASHOT HOSHARIAN
Mired in a history of turmoil,
Tired displaced persons roam,
To statues on liberty’s soil,
A place they can finally call home.
Entrusted guardians of our culture,
Soared founding unique Armenians,
Ensuring the talons of Genocide’s vulture,
Wouldn’t bound the last of the Mosikians.
Secure in their allegiance to survive,
They pledged an institution under god,
The indivisible federation would thrive,
In dynasties of Pakradouni, Samoniantz, Ohannessian, and Dodd.
Responsible trustees of Mesrob’s rune,
Boards of educators firmly bestowed,
Knowledge from dawn to afternoon,
On that ethnic strip of Beverly Road.
Over fifty years they did account,
With Balian, Onnik, and Postajian’s torque,
And formed a community that’s paramount,
Harmonious, as Boyadjian’s tuning fork.
Bolstered by an apostolic eminence,
Generations of students did display,
A motley crew of vast intelligence,
In skirts of blue and pants of grey.
In troubled times of fiscal cogs,
When impending doom awaited,
Brave Hyes stood strong as bulldogs,
When goliath met our David.
Ararat-like the supporters rose again,
Bringing shelter to this central hub,
A determined auxiliary of fearless women,
Preserved the music of Mesrobian’s club.
Nothing but love and conviction,
Would have spawned this golden era,
For this was William’s certain prediction,
When a few Armenians met in Pico Rivera.
Peter Hosharian is an alumnus of the Armenian Mesrobian School.
