Artist - Marc Berenguer
On December 21st, 1980, at 11 am, a group of students at Moscow State University gathered on the school’s parade grounds to honor the death of John Lennon. The event was quickly broken up by the KGB.
In the middle of a cloud I call your name
we are all adventurers, still
and although my blood flows from farmers
who tilled the land so beautifully
these hundreds of years
my ideas spin out dizzily on this esplanade
of Moscow State
he died so quickly, shot
by ideas and thoughts of hypocrisy
but that really hardly matters
I just can’t feel that it matters
because his words were stars
across the universe, within us
and without us
he imagined us as we would be
in our best form of ourselves
and all we want is to be that
that reality swarms in
wasps into us and divides us
sends us running back to rooms
libraries and classes
is of little consequence
because we had the moment
to recognize that we know who he is
and that he never made anything
but dreamed things he did
and so much better than they are
so another Sunday curls away
only a little different, only
a little more afraid
but we have marked it in the red
of our proud country, and we will
remember it in our hearts
alongside the shining moments
of our childhoods when we sat
on shoulders for parades
saw the red and gold flags
and fancied our union to be
full of such brave explorers
On December 21st, 1980, at 11 am, a group of students at Moscow State University gathered on the school’s parade grounds to honor the death of John Lennon. The event was quickly broken up by the KGB.
In the middle of a cloud I call your name
we are all adventurers, still
and although my blood flows from farmers
who tilled the land so beautifully
these hundreds of years
my ideas spin out dizzily on this esplanade
of Moscow State
he died so quickly, shot
by ideas and thoughts of hypocrisy
but that really hardly matters
I just can’t feel that it matters
because his words were stars
across the universe, within us
and without us
he imagined us as we would be
in our best form of ourselves
and all we want is to be that
that reality swarms in
wasps into us and divides us
sends us running back to rooms
libraries and classes
is of little consequence
because we had the moment
to recognize that we know who he is
and that he never made anything
but dreamed things he did
and so much better than they are
so another Sunday curls away
only a little different, only
a little more afraid
but we have marked it in the red
of our proud country, and we will
remember it in our hearts
alongside the shining moments
of our childhoods when we sat
on shoulders for parades
saw the red and gold flags
and fancied our union to be
full of such brave explorers
Marc Berenguer
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