Something Worked - 4 - Poem by Bill Grace
I can not tell you how but something worked
Like Norman Mailer with his cancer and Marx Brothers movies
Inducing laughter in the face of cancerous death and winning
I can not tell you how but something worked.
Our guide whose grandfather Stalin murdered
Told us it went extremely well
(I know nothing of Russian judicial practice -
The judge struck as one who took great care -
For me the process took forever)
My wife took the point of the judge's questions
And I emotionally followed.
Safe in Marriott Moscow
A good rate negotiated by our guide
To stem the dollar hemorrhage
Steadied by strong European coffee
She whispers and I transcribe.
Yelena is not free
But the mud soaked streets of a distant peasant village
No longer claim the future of her life.
I say this with respect of the people who stopped
More than any other Hitler's madness
And lived with Stalin's savageries.
There will be deep wounds for her to give to God to heal
Or whatever is her greater power than self.
And my prayer is that an alphabet
Will not hinder her return to her heritage land
Perhaps she can help carry the water
To our mutually parched understandings.
Mother would be pleased with our vote
Who invested profoundly in the number two.
And as I said at start, something worked.
If you gave a thought or prayer to help
A humble thank you for this, for something worked.
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