Cyrillic Alphabet

 

Here’s what I know, which

Isn’t all that much:

 

Cyril and Methodius travel

To Russia

To send a unifying story

Into tribal affiliations that

Have been

 

Sibling-folk murdering each

Other

For their difference

 

Here’s what the pilgrims

Found

In talking,

That no one knew the word

 

Each one uttering only

What each knew

And deadly ignorance

 

Who could hear?—there

Was no way;

 

Placing sectarian evangelism

Aside (though not

Unloading their first

Purpose),

What the saints gave first

Was language

 

In a unifying word

All could

Listen to at last

 

When the target is no longer

Blank, rather filled

With shapes

And hues

Of understanding,

 

Denial in killing becomes

A challenge

In Impossibility

 

All stories were told,

Fables had new morals;

 

All the letters are now legacy,

Spoken with

Living breath each day

 

The saints are capitalized

I don’t know how

Much they care

 

And people are

Still talking, if

Through veils sometimes

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