We hear the droning edicts. The laws of men,
forever shifting like sand near my palace,
pinions near yours, decreeing who’s to live,
or be swatted like gnats. We can’t keep the children
from their father’s wrath, Lyudmila.
Will sanity prevail? The iron scepter blocks
its passage, despite yachted oligarchs, well paid
to avoid a mutiny, fatal embarrassment
before the world’s blaring footage. Best keep quiet
until it serves your purpose, and your people,
as Ukrainian as Russian, if they search
forbidden records, the royal lines of genes.
Our rulers got a little sloppy in their wanderings,
despite the protests of the public face.
We know better. Some think darkness hides
desire. It only hides contempt, not well at that.
Light calls truth’s nightingale from the thicket.
Patience, a virtue kept from raven’s eyes.
Trust me, the time will come. It always does,
where honor and love abide.
