by Pamela Toomey
Hear me, O Hermes, haunt of in-between sites: ‘Twixt knavery and bravery, very sharp stake; ‘Twixt demagogue and dialogue, vulgar gun sights; ‘Twixt bayonets and baritones, guilty knife smites. Clear space in the lair of the forked-tongue snake For luster that glistens from lodestar’s tripart: Sviatlana soars straight from bleeding land’s ache, Maria, Veranika, hope’s shining restart. They hear with the heart as a healing art. Clear space in the lair of the forked-tongue snake For civil engagement despite regime goons. Their bolt on free speech fluent hand gestures break; Articulate runes flow from mute finger-tunes, Thwarting two-headed Hydra: tyrant and tycoons. Clear space in the lair of the forked-tongue snake For theaters to flourish despite despot’s binds Making mother’s tongue mum and truth-telling fake. Brave actor, truth-bearer, genuflects and unwinds Real “thought crimes” awash in balaclava blinds. Clear space in the lair of the forked-tongue snake For sanctions to sink coterie who abets. Ban access to SWIFT, apply the foot brake So basilisk’s lucre gets snared in the nets That trap Russian asps grabbing potash assets. Clear space in the lair of the forked-tongue snake. ‘Twixt tyrant and teacher, vent and invent, Intrepid Belarusians choose to partake Of elections unrigged, dialogue that’s intent On self-determination, change that’s meant To air out the lair of the forked-tongue snake.