Russian Metaphor  

Russian Metaphor

I wanted the words to come from Russia
In steppes and plain measures, flat, grainy,
Ready to act out my life through a shared
And world-renowned national memory

So vast and irrational to a fault that
No mad or manic hordes from the world's
Four corners set against it would be able
To maraud or conquer the broad expanse

Of my fabulous unknown interior ... and
Everywhere else, especially in the western
Industrial cities, political and religious expression
Finding refuge in spires and mental ramparts

Of the poor, broken, but always proud
Populace, each one a new-claimed citizen
Of my also beleaguered, over-described
Heart ... gold cup I fill to drink from,

Good book I write to read from. Many
Years I kept both these treasured secrets
Quiet in a small, gabled, upper floor
Apartment far from the nosy probes

Of vicious government officials, cowards all.
There I learned to live long winters through
Stirring visions of a slow spring thaw down
Volgas of hope that promise their wet scent

On wind, redolent with a rush of sudden
Flowers in forest and field, will be enough
To unfreeze and heave up the reluctant tundra
And bring us our long sought revolution.