Tempers flare in russian Markets.
     Neighbors turn on neighbors -
Fighting for the final bag of sugar -
     Snatching a carton of eggs.
from a nearby shoppers cart.

This is but the surface of your pain.
     Your hard-earned coins and notes
Are worth little more than dust.
     Your cherished sons and brothers
Come home in zippered bags.

These and your every other panic
     Has a single homicidal face.
He has ravaged your beloved land.
    This blood soaked KGB assassin
Has stolen your country and your soul.

When the bombs and missiles stop
     When screams of Ukraini widows end,
Your youth and tomorrow’s hope
      will sink no longer to early graves
And the russian soul will rise from its ashes.