Poetry

Alexei Kouprianov photo

By

I.B. Rad

Winds

In 1918,

when Aleksandr Blok opened

his epic poem, “The Twelve,”

with the lines,

“Black night.

White snow.

The wind, the wind!

It will not let you go.

The wind, the wind!

Through God’s whole world it blows.”*

he wasn’t simply describing

a St. Petersburg blizzard,

he was also giving us a metaphor

for those political storms

erupting all over Russia.

Similarly, nowadays

political tempests

are sweeping throughout America,

much of Europe, and elsewhere;

although, maybe, unlike the Russian revolution,

these “creative destructions,”

will close with a “happily-ever-after;”

but even so,

as befitting many such “happy endings”

it’s necessary for their full appreciation

to inquire,

Happy for whom?

And to what end?

* As translated by Babette Deutsch and Avrahm Yarmolinsky

Darwin’s Dilemma

Although many might agree,

“Do not go gentle into that good night

…Rage, rage against the dying of the light,”

plainly such persons fail to see

Darwin’s Dilemma:

Absent death

there’d be no evolution

and consequently

thee or me;

albeit true,

what meager consolation

for your needless suffering

or for anyone

loving you.

Who can say?

In spring’s radiance

who can say

if love’s former ardor

will bloom anew

or

if some

ill timed frost

will nip it in the bud?

I.B. Rad

I.B. Rad lives in New York city with Mrs Rad and their valued canine companion. He is widely published with much of his work available on the internet. His book, “Dancing at the Abyss,” was recently published by “Scars Publications.”