Saints Stood Still In A Blizzard Of Lies

saints stood still in a blizzard of lies
their eyes fixed somewhere else
their whole attention riveted

so that the sun melted;

in the blizzard. we dreamed its molten gold.
we sang the funeral verses of the sun
said Mandelstam

certain others.
the dove over the flood waters
continued fluttering.

but the waters rose and rose.

this was written down, memorized
then torn up then he doesn't show up
for the breakfast in transit.

Nadezhda. oh, on Nadezhda
it wasn't that long ago how many decades
that for decades the whole opus was hers

held in the heart and lined with gold.
now we have intermittent translations;
occasional transmissions from a far outpost.

the light grace of summer stars

such his soul was in the beginning
oh Russia have you forgotten him
have you forgotten

those men and women bartered life for verse
mere verse. or lived through seven hells
unrecognizable to themselves.

it wasn't that long ago

they stood frozen, recalcitrant
in a blizzard of lies, saints of words despised
and traced the incomparable

in invisible ink
upon their midnight skies.

mary angela douglas 14 april 2018