Two Poems by Tatyana Muradov
On the other side
On the other side of the Atlantic people are dying
I’m having a good hair day
Putin has attacked Ukraine
I’m tired because I stayed up late watching sitcoms
People are sheltering underground in the subway
My salad for lunch was bland
More than six thousand arrests for protesting the war in Russia
The mask acne is driving me nuts
Children are living through war
I’m on a bad date
Children are serving in war
I’m on a worse date
People don’t know where their next meal will come from
I don’t know what to wear tonight
People are scared for their lives
I’m scared of Sundays
One side of the ball is dark and the other is light
But it’s always turning
And you never know where the devil will drop his pin
The Fall
I come from a battered peoples
Mortared into muddy grey
From centuries of waiting for change
How to take the resource full and make it useful
How to take the money out of politician’s pockets and put it into schools
My 16-year-old cousin doesn’t want to go to school
I do not know how to tell her to behave in a country that teaches her daily to do what’s easy
To try less
To play dumb
To leave it to those in charge
I do not know how to love a country that gets away with murder
I do not know how to love a coward
A country that does not rise up
A country that gives itself a bad rep
With people that make me look bad
I am so sick of being related to
The mafia
The winter cold
The bad guy in every fucking movie
The mail order bride
The Stalin
The Putin
The Pussy Riot
The nukes
The word sneaky
The word evil
The word corrupt
The word communist
The word red
The word hate
The word fear
I have been soiled with hate and fear for years
I had to put five thousand miles between us to feel safe
But I miss her
And every time I go there I feel her underneath my feet
Weeping
Pushkin’s “Land of Moscow” comes to mind
He said, "And where the luxury was thriving
In shady parks and gardens in the past
Where myrtle was fragrant, limes were shining
There now are just coals, ash, and dust."
He’s right, the scent of dust is overbearing
But what about the rose haw and the conifers?
There are still things to love there
There are still things to hope for
Aren’t there?
Tatyana Muradov was born in Moscow, Russia and moved to a small town in Texas where she grew up. She has performed in open mic and slam poetry events at Louder Arts, Urbana, KGB Bar, WAN Poetry, Dead Pete’s Society, etc. Her work has appeared in publications such as Radius, The New Verse News, NYSAI Press, Great Weather for MEDIA, and JMF Chapbooks LLC. She also has a poetry Instagram account @ms.muradov which features small snippets of her work.
