(Officium Defunctorum)

Yes I was once Mother Russia
but that is now a faint echo

Once there was hope
a communion of sorts
to rewrite the czars as equals

Only to end up, a century later
sitting in the office of the dead
with these dry and dusty
plastic plants.

Now we are engaged in a great
Ukrainian war.

But it is we who are dying,
soldiers wasted, future gone.

Who loves a clumsy bully?
And who does the killer really kill?

The stink of wrong is already here
at the gates of Moscow.


illustration info