Fragile in the wake
of everlasting maniacal exuberance
You shine all the medals
in your chest of mahogany dust
Find the key that opens the box
That Russian box with emerald inlay
The notes of the Romanov's hidden forever not
in this attic of secrets
lets all discover the past

My face lay in a half-frozen puddle in the moist woods
From here I can see smoke rising from the cottages of the
Siberian countryside
and I know that home is near
5 weeks on the run and no sign of my dear Aleksandra
The plan was to meet here
The plan was to meet now

After our children were shot
we thought we would be next
Naturally
we braced ourselves for he worst but the worst never came
Sacks were
thrown over our faces
and we were taken outside the death cellar and unmasked
in a field of snow

The men looked nothing like the murderers
who had just killed our family.
These were not the Bolsheviki

Men in robes with eyes like a yellow moon
The overwhelming fear had subsided as they untied us
and set us free

The sky sounded like it was gargling rain
before it would spit it back into the sink of the Earth

Our pact has failed us now and I must move on
as a Tsar that once was

Finding a blind maiden of only 22
life since the cellar has been foreign to say the least
For instance my wife the Tsaritsa
never had moves like these

06/22/2008

Posted on 06/22/2008
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