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


For their difference


Here’s what the pilgrims


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


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