Remembrance

(Of Stalin's Famine-genocide in Ukraine, 1932-1933)

To my kin,
Though I knew you not,
I remember you!
To my grandmothers and my grandfathers of the soul,
I remember you!

The Lord says we must forgive,
But how do you forgive the sun
For turning black?
How does a son forgive the torturer of his mother,
A mother the torturer of her child?

If I were you,
I could rise up from my bread-less grave
And forgive in the light of God.
But how does one forgive for another?
Blasphemy!
Obscene!

I wander in labyrinths of my heart, Lord,
I open closets,
Open still fresh wounds.
Pour Your crystal waters
Upon the mazes of my soul,
Until, like a prophet,
I can see and understand
The mysteries of Your mind

Oh, Lord!
Your Cross is heavy,
But it is made of gold
And smells of myrrh.
And Michael himself walks beside it,
To keep Satan at bay
While he dances his perverse little jig through time.

The winds of the world blow blind
And unperturbed,
But I am baking mourning bread for you
As you sleep,
A holy offering,
Deep from the grains of my heart,
That you may never be hungry again.

 

- Dr. Tania Zazula

 

Seen in the photos: the solemn procession and requiem service held in New York on November 20 to remember the Great Famine.

Copyright © The Ukrainian Weekly, December 5, 1999, No. 49, Vol. LXVII

| Home Page |