The Russian Soul

As a youth I read about the Nazi camps

Where Satan's forces exacted their ghastly toll

And ogres of death and darkness fed on men,

Unspeakable horrors visited on the soul.

Blackened scarecrows looming in the night

Tall and gaunt against the winter sky

Alone yet huddled together in their plight

Singing of God as they prepared to die.

I have made my acquaintance with the Russian soul

That broods upon the steppes in frozen time

Whose epic suffering the gods condole

From their high abode to witness such dire crime.

I have known their generosity

And sung with them in many an incense-shrine

The stirring hymns of an orthodox liturgy

And the sumptuous chants of Byzantine.

A witness and participant I lived

Close to the heart of a warm and mystical light

Inherent in their deep humanity

That opens now to diviner worlds of sight.