Light Bulb in a Moscow Graveyard


Life is full of revelations, and some of them I have chronicled here in my blog over the last two years… it seems many of them come to me late in life…

The first time Wayne and I visited Moscow and walked through the graveyard of their Russian leaders I had a moment of illumination… I later wrote about it in this poem.

Tomb Inscriptions

Linguistically ignorant 

of Cyrillic, and

unprepared yet eager

to appreciate

Russian history,

I couldn’t read 

the inscriptions

chiseled in granite

on the leaders’ great tombs

in Red Square.

“Now what about George 

and Abe?” I questioned myself

as I walked through 

the Russian graveyard avenue.

Able to read their tomb inscriptions–

what a pity 

that I didn’t.

5 Comments Add yours

  1. lamarhowell says:

    Did you mean George AND Abe? Or else I didn’t get it. (Can you imagine how long a light bulb would stay in a Russian graveyard before it was stolen?)

  2. Bonnie says:

    Thanks, Lamar, always hard to self edit, and in poetry every word is extremely significant… How are you guys?


  3. David Katz says:

    I read this two or three times (including Lamra’s question and your response) before I appreciated it appropriately. “Able to read thier tomb insrciptions[what a pity I didn’t” is a great line. We really do need to learn to appreciate every day and every opportunity we have.

  4. Bonnie says:

    Hey David, have you guys left for your vacation yet? Wayne has been in your neck of the woods the last few days and stopped by your office but your were not in… he hated to miss you.

  5. David Katz says:

    We are still here. We leave on 21 July to Madrid for two days then on to Miami/Key West, then to California for my niece’s Bat Mitzvah then to New York for my mother, her twin sister and my father’s sister’s 90th birthday celebration. If Wayne is still here, tell him to call me. I don’t have the Christians number.

    Even before I got online this morning I thought again about this poem; we show so much interst in things that are far from us and miss that which is close . . .

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