Deluge
Tears of my family filled
creeks and rivers that flowed
against the ancient balance
and suddenly what was valuable
turned into a consumeristic parody
deluge that roared along
evaluations of the ancient wisdom
and the gardenia’s faint smile
the finch’s soft murmur, scent
of the night flower became
their annulled paradise
and the peace of their souls
sunken deep in the deep bog
and in the shadow of illusion
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wooden feet, and watched as Ronnie quickly lowered his charge to the ground. Bobby lay in a heap in front of them.
“Wake up, Bob, wake up quick.” Ronnie shook him, and putting both hands under his shoulders, tried to make him stand erect.
Cruel, Rachael thought, you’re cruel, Ronnie. Let him sleep. They couldn’t go any further anyway, so why couldn’t they just lay down in the nice, warm snow and sleep? Cruel, Ronnie. You’re mean.
She watched, detached, as their cruel cousin tried to make the child wake up and walk. But Bobby lolled forward like a rag doll.
“Help me, Rachael, we’ve got to wake him up.”
She didn’t move.
“Rachael!” Ronnie sounded hysterical but she didn’t care. “Rachael! Come over here and help me wake him up. If he doesn’t wake up and start walkin’, he’ll die.”
Jolted to full attention, Rachael struggled to her feet and plodded over to them as fast as she could through the drifted snow. “No, Ronnie, no, don’t let him die,” she cried.
“Then help me get him moving.”
Needing no more urging, Rachael bent down in front of her brother and gripped his shoulders. “Bobby, Bobby, wake up, wake up.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. The glimmer of a smile passed over his face. “Hi Rachael,” he whispered, just as he always did when she woke him in his bed at home.
In minutes they had him walking between them, each holding a small mittened hand. His pace slowed them down, but Rachael knew now that the important thing was to keep him moving at any cost. She had also roused a little from her stupor, and now she began to feel colder than she had felt for a while. She glanced upwards, then squinted at what she saw – or what she thought she saw. Was she imagining things again?
“Look … there’s a … l…light, Ronnie.” She expected him to tell her there was nothing there.
“It’s a star.”
“Really?”
Evening
The children that play in the spring dusk
far away echo —
the breeze whispers and remains
in the lips of the rose petals
the open windows that breath the hour
my vacant room —
a train coming from a foreign land
my vanished dreams
chime of bells that fades, evening that descends
onto the city —
onto the faces of people, into the mirror of the sky
in all my life right now.
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“I suggest we talk to Hank right now and he can talk to Marty.”
“Can he keep a secret?” asked Ted.
“We’re going to have to trust him.” David waved at Hank and he happily slid into a seat at their table. Quickly, David outlined the facts.
He’s got a good organizing streak, Jennifer thought and was comforted. The group voted three to two, Hank and Jennifer opposed, to tell Lona about Paul’s departure and about the subsequent plan for Volodya.
“She’s a smart cookie—the sort of person who would figure it out—so it’s better to have her on our side.” David seemed relieved. “Call her over as soon as she comes in.”
But it was Chopyk who entered the dining room first. He marched solemnly toward the group’s table. Jennifer drew in her breath. David’s mouth hung open. Maria looked guilty. God, we’re never going to make it out of the country if one glance from Chopyk throws us into such a tailspin. But when Chopyk arrived, he addressed only her as if the others were not present.
“Finally coming into your territory then, Mrs. White?” he said. They were the first words he had spoken to her since the telegram incident and she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
“Uh…you’re referring to…?”
“Kazan. The Gorky museum, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” The place where Maxim Gorky worked and lived. The very foundation of my thesis. Remember? This was supposed to be the highlight of my trip. “Sure…” she continued, “I’m really looking forward to it.” She hadn’t thought about it in a week.
“We only have about four hours in Kazan before the museum closes, and we catch our plane to Moscow the next morning. Perhaps I can help you spend your time there fruitfully. I could take charge of the students while you’re at the museum.”
“Why, thank you—that would be great, oh….” She was aware that the faces around the table were stunned as if they had only just remembered that Chopyk was still in charge of the trip. She glimpsed David shaking his head, his eyes wide.
“Uh, but no…that’s okay, Professor Chopyk.” They hadn’t yet had time to formulate a plan. “I imagine we’ll all be going there together…that is, some of them may want to spend some free time in Kazan and so…” She stumbled on.
Hellenic Canadian Literature 