I have come across some of my journals from 1979 and 1987.
Indeed, my cry to the Lord was genuine. I actually wanted to die. I cried out to the Lord over and over again for salvation and redemption. Still, I continued in turmoil. As I read my journals from those periods in my life and my writing in Synchronized Chaos since 2015, I’ve found my salvation and redemption here and now after 21 years yesterday in this apartment God has come and now lives in my Heart.❤️
I have peace beyond my understanding, as it says in the Bible. Finally, after years of darkness, there is light in my heart. Jeremiah 29:11 tells us that God promises a hope and a future, not to harm, but to prosper us. John 3:16 says that God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son so that anyone who believes in Him would have eternal life.
I accept Christ the salvation that Jesus Christ purchased for me. No more do I desire to die, but to live in Christ Jesus in the here and now and throughout eternity. My death was to my sinful nature because I’ve come to accept that while I once was a sinner. I’m now saved to live a life in Christ who is alive in the Father. Therefore, like the Apostle Paul says: Romans “Dead to sin, alive to God”
Romans 6:1-14: Dead to Sin “What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?” – Romans 6:1-2 (NIV). Amen and amen.
“You were born from the Rays of God’s Majesty when the stars were in their perfect place.”
~RUMI
God, I return to you in the lights of a star…shining bright with the light of love. Love from the beginning I return without darkness for I have seen the wonders of my soul. The hidden treasure of your spark within me. The world has not covered my soul in sin or emptiness leaving me without you in my heart. Your truth speaks in me in the wee hours of the morning as the world sleeps forever more. I find my soul among the stars circling the outer rim of Saturn’s moon. I’m that star to the right of your heart. O God, never to become dim for you created me to shine forever more.
“When you lose all sense of self the bonds of a thousand chains will vanish…”
~RUMI
Where can I go, O God where you do not exist? I have not traveled far enough to not feel your Holy presence within my soul. Delightful thoughts about the beginning of time together. Reaching for the clouds, as I lay in the fields of joy, wishing to see the skies once more. Before the clouds cover the moon and the sun fades into the distinct mountains of Vermont. Once we had a conversation, as I sat on the porch wondering about my life. It was a conversation about my beginning without end. My heart listened intently as you spoke of salvation and redemption. Christ the Messiah came alive within me. No more doubt nor sin to confuse my aching soul. For I had received the communion of life with these three words: You are forgiven.
The whole class goes to extinguish incendiary bombs. My friend and I like it better than sitting in a cold classroom. Although I continue to study diligently, I still have the feeling that there is no need to study now. There’s a war all around! And so we benefit and do not freeze in the dimness of the classroom.
In a couple of months of participating in such operations, our class probably went around the entire Petrograd district. Bombs fell by the dozens or even hundreds. Some of them ended up in rivers, parks or squares, and they were usually not touched. Our goal was to extinguish bombs that hit houses and ended up on roofs, attics or even indoors.
It may seem strange now, but extinguishing bombs was not a very difficult task. The main thing was not to yawn and quickly cover it with sand until the “lighters” ignited everything around. It was scary at first. Some classmates said that bombs could explode and flatly refused to approach them, others boasted excessively, but at the sight of the bomb they panicked and could not move. However, over time, we all got used to it, and extinguishing “lighters” became almost as commonplace for us as homework or test papers.
Once, Igor and I and two other guys even managed to extinguish five bombs in one day. This event did not go unnoticed, and the director said that some commander would come to praise us the next day (I did not remember his last name and rank).
It was a real event for us. The blockade brought us much closer to the teachers, and even many cold and strict teachers thawed out and treated us like family. During these six months, we have already become accustomed to receiving certificates or encouragement from them and even the director, and then a person from the outside will come, and even a military one at that! All that morning, while waiting, we discussed his arrival.
– I wonder who will come to reward us, maybe Comrade Zhdanov? – one of our friends suggested.
– Why did you decide that it was him? – Igor grinned back.
– Hey, you heroes! – our ill-wisher, bully and sophomore Petka, intervened in the conversation, – What are they going to hang orders on your chest now? You’re going to walk around and shine them at the whole school, aren’t you?
– And what are you jealous of? – I asked.
– What did you say? – he started to attack me.
– Look! They’re coming! – A voice came from the hallway.
We ran out onto the stairs in a crowd. Through a small window, we clearly saw three figures in military uniforms entering the school.
– Everyone to class quickly! – Our teacher shouted.
Everyone rushed to their places. And after a couple of minutes, a short commander with a mustache, probably as big as Budyonny’s, entered the class. Our four were asked to come to the blackboard. This commander looked at us and addressed the class with a speech. He said a lot that the situation in the country and in the world is not easy, that we are fighting for a just cause and that victory will be ours, including thanks to such brave young people like us. Then he praised us and thanked us for our dedication and service to Leningrad, shook hands with everyone, handed over badges with a portrait of Lenin and performed a military greeting (saluted). To which we all replied in unison:
– Always ready!
When he left, we continued to discuss his visit and although, as some guessed, we did not receive medals or orders, this minute of communication, praise and gratitude completely replaced it and forever fixed in my memory.
6
More raids, shelling and bombing. One of them also occurred in our area. No sooner had we rejoiced at the return of the brothers, than the blockade again reminded us of itself!
That night, many houses were destroyed, but by some miracle our street was not hit. That was the first time I heard that terrible scream that night. At first I mistook it for the sound of an exploding shell or bomb, but when it was repeated, it became obvious that it had a different origin. However, a person couldn’t scream like that, a car couldn’t make such sounds, what was it? I heard it maybe five more times during the night. Something scared me in its sound, it was the sound of pain and despair, it seemed that the city itself was crying after the bombing, trying with effort to heal its wounds.
The morning was full of bustle for our family, we accompanied Ivan and Leonid to the front. Even my mother took time off before lunch for this occasion and was at home with us. But that terrible scream kept coming out of my head, and I decided to share my thoughts. My questions and assumptions were met with misunderstanding at home, and even reproaches. They were escorting their brothers and sons to the front, and I was climbing with my nonsense. Only Leonid shared my curiosity and, at parting, told me that he had heard from an upstairs neighbor a story about how an elephant from our zoo was wounded by a fragment last night, but there are no medicines and he is doomed to death.
After school, Igor and I walked around the zoo again, hoping to see something. He was very impressed by my stories. Although he did not hear these screams himself, he took my word for it and expressed hopes that specialists could come from Moscow and save the unfortunate animal. We were very worried about our elephant.
The promenade and the streets around the zoo seemed lifeless and quiet. Bare trees stuck up their branches like thorns. The dark waters of the Neva were still shackled by the ice blockade. The sidewalks, despite the spring month of March, were covered with snow. It seemed that there was not a single living soul in this world anymore, except for Igor and me.
Suddenly, I was called out. Turning around, I saw Masha dragging a sled with empty buckets. Scolding us for our idleness, she told us to immediately collect two buckets of water and take us home. Unable to refuse, I dragged the sled to the river. Igor volunteered to come with me for company.
On the way back, in this disturbing silence, we heard the cry of an elephant for the first time that day. So he was still alive! But why does he keep screaming? Is there really no way to help him? While we were standing and wondering, the elephant trumpeted again, even louder and longer.
His cry was reflected in our hearts with horror. We quickly walked away from the zoo, and he screamed over and over again, it seemed that he was chasing us, either begging for help, or warning about the agony of death, or blaming the pain that man generously gave to innocent animals.
At night, the screams of a dying elephant were heard again. I couldn’t sleep, and in order not to wake my brothers, I quietly got out of bed and walked barefoot to the window, slightly opening the window into the night darkness.
The almost indistinguishable silhouettes of the city were filled with the wild cry of death of the unfortunate animal. Perhaps this is the most terrible memory of the blockade and what I have always associated with it. That night, I also couldn’t sleep, but just stood and stared out the window for several hours in a row, hoping that my participation could ease the elephant’s torment.
At night
curves in the road
multiply
when there are no
street lights
on those posted-
25 miles per hour
and they mean it
two lanes
Excessive drinking
is what the young
and the feckless islanders
do
tourists as well
willfully riding
their motorcycles
rented mopeds
ATV’s
dune buggies
without helmets
where none are
supposed to go
Their roadside
memorials are
everywhere
homemade paint chipped
white crosses losing
their luster
Death Comes to the Harborside
Historic turn of the last
century hotel and lounge’s
self-immolation produced
smoke and flames
visible on mainland
miles away
We wonder what happened
to the speakeasy ghosts
the good time girls
flappers and spirits
of the murdered and
those who died of natural
causes
Days later numbered
striped cue balls
are found unearthed
from rubble along with
a long forgotten
floor safe
Marked cards inside
Tally sheets and chits
IOU’s dated and signed
100 plus years ago
A community of crows
gathers in yew trees
bordering the inland
cemetery
The oldest headstone
date back to 1700’s
but the crows are timeless
By dusk there are
hundreds of them
silently inhabiting the trees
Surfing the Hurricane
A few 12 packs
and surfing the storm
seems like a great idea
a plan
“Oh, man, look at
the swell”
The rip tides
and the submerged
rock
the killer waves
The Chainsaw Artist
works nights in
a barn lit by flickering
kerosene lamps
Such an uncertain light
for carving dread beasts
never seen anywhere in
this world except
in his mind
When they are finished
the artist hides his creations
amid the clutching brambles
the decaying drooping trees
where hikers come upon them
in unexpected places
Unearthing these creatures
instills the kind of fear
that can never be erased
leads to illness
and despair
The woods feel haunted now
alive with unseemly beings
wherever the artist has been
We can hear incessant
tolling of church bells
from the far side
of the great salt pond
where no structures
are
Such a mournful sound
propelled across
the surface by a steady
off-shore breeze
We listen wondering
why we are being
summoned from so far
away
Village
A lonely cottage by the river wall
The sun scooped daisy under my beige wall
A pointed facade a long overturn over there
To mend and bask the town Meadows
As I lay dipping in the river
I hear cascades over my rimmed lens
A lovely blossom it was, it lied open dust
The moonbeamed sun is lowly now
To hung the home grown lilies
The blue painted carpenter singed a choir
A thousand lullabyed biddings
For the village was aglow in the pure love.
