PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Fate, as a timely executioner,
will soon be coming my way (I am sure)
without the slightest thought of clemency,
because the blame is placed squarely on me.
Our Comrade Lenin, quite the wiley lawyer,
adopted the odd role of public staller,
postponing a decision and decree
that no responsibility or shame
should be attached to, or besmirch, his name.
He made his wishes known more privily,
far from his locomotive---History.
We slew them all, we thought, a joyous slaughter
(slain with hot rancor for the People's sake,
and for the justice that the Cause might slake);
then found out one escaped, the curvy daughter.
Now, for the greater good---the Revolution---
I shall, for both debacles, bear the blame
alone:  that I ordered the execution,
and that the fulsome Duchess fled away.
At certain moments, like midnight, I hear
the tread of sneaking footsteps, and I fear
to turn around.  But then, no one is there,
while I, in trembling, wait the break of day.
This is the ghastly burden I must bear---
to speak for and to serve the People's Red
Order so long, now must I really dread
a pretty young girl, and the mangled dead
whom she had once loved as her family?
Like some folk story, am I to be haunted,
although I stood with Lenin, proud, undaunted.
Although I have the honor of the Chair
of the Committee of Executive
Power for the whole nation, must I live
like this under such unrelenting scare?
I think I need a change of scenery:
my concentration and my nerves are bad.
You understand what bothers me, Comrade:
I love the Revolution---but devotion
to it does not change plain, human emotion.
It holds it own truth, and strikes its own sparks,
despite what Comrade Lenin reads in Marx.
Secure for me a train that travels fast.
I need a visit to Oryel Oblast.

Starward

[jlc]