Church bell punctures the vast silence
like needle – cloth.
The city awakens to another day
and the crescent – the color of moth
gives way to the blue-gray
of the desolate winter.
A mere splinter I am,
a mere speck
without you
and your light.
I do not dare speak of lack.
What I had asked for –
God has granted…
And then some
If patience,
If time is the ransom –
it will be paid in full –
In sweat and toil,
as the patriarch paid for Rachel
to appease the greed
of the old testament meat.
The New Order comes quietly.
Like a desolate winter morning,
Blue gray
Light as a lace satchel
Light as the air
As the fair-haired boy,
Loose-walking, slow
And time turns to a trifle
Space – to a toy that glows
And the sound of the bell remains
Piercing the gray blue
And your voice, hollow, whispers
Thank You.
Copyright 2019 Yana Djinn
Yana Djin, born in Tbilisi, Georgia, lives in New York. She writes in Russian and English.