the snow sledge drives through lacquered lands
and I have lost my way again
biting in half for sustenance
the raspberry chill of former syllables.
Anna Akhmatova: you are in my heart
but the Snow Maid's pastel musings still
could vanish overnight in any country where
darkness singes, mimics light since
beauty is always melting here on earth.
and sometimes by decree.
Anna Akhmatova, you are in my heart
even though I am hardly Russian
and I don't know why your
white flocks have been driven to
my door as though seeking shelter-
in every weather your especial Firebird gleams
fiercely above these scenes of quite human
distress where with each fresh travesty you
do need air to breathe and poetry
to remember who you are
even when burned beyond recognition,
Anna Akhmatova or
standing in the ruins or in
the snow-clouded hands of God-
mary angela douglas 9 september 2009
