For Anastasia
*Give patience, Lord, to us Thy children
In these dark, stormy days to bear
The persecution of our people,
The torture falling to our share.
--
When we are plundered and insulted
In days of mutinous unrest
We turn for help to thee, Christ-Saviour,
That we may stand the bitter test.
-Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna Romanov*
Weakened by the revolutionists,
they lived their last days out simply.
Cold borscht and cabbage rolls.
The family was herded to the slaughter house.
Precious jewels and ikons sewn into their clothing,
Give strength, Just God, to us who need it.
The baby boy was butchered like a suckling piglet.
Low ceilings and dim light made it hard
to take aim and fire. Tears and prayers collided
with bullets and blood, spattered on the walls.
A thick cloud of smoke and plaster settled
upon a dynasty dead.
She raised herself from the dead,
Clawing, moaning, screaming,
stifled by blood--
Then disappeared, falling into
the abyss of immortality.