Lament of the Comrade
Babushka dolls glowed gold in the cold to
Young Alexei vespers, prayers centuries old.
Entered his life Nadia of Kyiv's red square,
Whose family wore Stalin's star in their hair.
No Christ on their walls — just a portrait of Lenin,
"Religion is poison" her father kept sayin'.
"The Party's our gospel, Marx lights up the way,"
Vespers are just shadows — put icons away."
He longed for the liturgy, incense and bell,
Nadia's mother said coldly, "That's bourgeois spell."
He got in return *Das Kapital*, cold as the frost,
That mocked the Madonna and counted her lost.
He sang the *Internationale* through Siberian air,
A comrade in name, just a ghost of despair
as soul watched its last candle die.
And then
In that snow-laden night of Christmas,softly echoed a voice,
"Why sing for their darkness when you are my light? Am I not the Shepherd?"
Alexei rose, followed past iron and foam,
Church bells rang softly… "My child has finally come home"
Comrade in Arms Comrade at Heart
Christ is our saviour ever forever
