Ivanovka (thoughts on Sergei Rachmaninoff)
Chords struck like bells,
within the straddle of a hand,
Ivanovka rang out to the stolen land.
Through Summers and peasant days
before The Great Silence,
the artist plays.
Though men without music crushed the soul
the melody remained,
and through decades of winters the refrain refrained.
It flowered in blooms that smothered the cruel,
and love pushed on through..
it's natures rule.