by Pavel Chichikov
He came back from the dead again
I watched him eat his modest meal
Lazarus, and he was real
He came back from the dead again
I saw he was a working man
Bent and dark of skin
He came back from the dead again
I saw that he was bent and strong
Before his meal prayed long
Come again to bring me home
As once You drew me from the tomb
I am so tired, Master mine
I have seen such sorrow, grief
As agonized the faithful thief
Who begged Your favor
Yet still there is enough to scar
All flesh, I mean the pangs of war
Oppression and violation
It wearies me until I bend
With triple sorrow – bring an end
At least to me if not to all
To grow so old and see so much
Of heinousness – where is the touch
That drove the demons out?
Then he dipped his spoon and ate
Patient, slow – how long to wait
Until he finishes?
Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may also visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.