for John Erickson

A small church
just a few blocks from Red Square
no pews
the faithful standing
shoulder to shoulder
on this eve of Easter Sunday
the gold icon wall
shone in the lamplight
as the priest chanted the service
starting low
and rising step by step
till he could go no higher
then at midnight
with the lights turned off
we stood immersed
in total darkness
each holding a candle
we'd been given
the priest lit first one flame
then there were two
then four, then eight, sixteen
as the light passed
from each to her neighbor
until the whole church
was lit up with the soft glow
of a hundred candles

Then suddenly the church
began to shake
an earthquake?
no, the army
missiles thundering
along the narrow street
ICBMs
engines of armageddon
this the moment chosen
to rehearse
for May Day's
show of military pride

What I witnessed then
has stayed with me
I saw that not a soul
inside the church
had payed the least attention
to the shaking ground
the thunder of the trucks
their fearful cargo
all that was unreal
and what was real
was how through the dark space
candle to candle
the little light was passed
until it grew
bringing light
to the whole church
a mystery
meant for the soul
for its illumination

I felt within a kindling of gnosis
of a wisdom running deep
deeper than faith
and though a youngster
I saw then
that we are here
both first and last
to pass as best we can
that precious light
from one soul to another
light of our faith
light of our hope
light of God's love