~ inspired by the life of Agafia Lykova
Gone to God now they are.
Bones will follow someday.
Rattling through moonlight.
Up to the angel stars.
Graves sway grass and crosses.
Blue star flowers wild I put there.
Crosses tell my own dear sleepers.
Blue star flowers strung on crosses.
Mountain makes the wind a hymn.
Fled to this far frost we did,
to hidden nights of birches.
Hard oh God, cold oh God.
Sky changing out the years.
Hungry and the soot of hours.
Once I heard an old saint speak
inside cold fire of soot and hours.
Frost and snow and silent birches.
How long oh God, how long?
Once they came to take us back.
We felt the sin on strange breath.
What more than faith is saving?
Why go when we are here?
They left us to our prayers.
Gone to God now my dear sleepers.
Nights we told our holy dreams.
The Devil circled our dark hut.
We swayed to scripture rhythm.
I sway to scripture rhythm, мама.
Now at night I hear the voices.
Time is harsh for ecstasy.
~ TB
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