Did people really live in them
those tiny huts
black shapes emerging from the level fields
of white that seemed to stretch on endlessly
mile after mile as our bus scurried north
from Moscow through the windblown snow

The churches flaunted golden domes and guarded
the treasured icons of Rublev
and others from the time Vladimir
was Russia's center
seat of the tsar's rule

Twelve hundred thirty-eight
the year the Mongol horde swept in
and burned the city
yet the great churches survived
or were rebuilt and though the Icon's colors
have been restored
they still posess an aura not unlike
the halos of the saints depicted on them
their antique spirit though foreign to our world
still speaks of something that's beyond
mere history or style or even art

It was Pasternak who wrote Eternity
should cast its glow among us
like a Christmas tree with candles
lighting up the room
these icons have that power
bringing to bear a vertical awareness
amidst the hustle of our horizontal lives