He was gifted, he suffered, he made great music
His most deeply felt pieces were sad, even tragic
Yet, ironic, for his tormentors were tone deaf
And those who knew could see through the façade
A dangerous game to play
He played the game that Stalin put in place
To control the people through control of the elite
The rules constantly changing, people disappearing
The speeches prepared for him betrayed the people he admired
Until Stalin died, he feared death every day, but as time advanced
He feared life even more than death
But lacked the resolve to end it
Because he had more music to make
He remained alive, suffering, suffering, humiliated
Writing for the Russian people
Giving them a spiritual touchstone
The Church being officially forbidden and suppressed
We need to remember our martyrs
Yes, ours, even those without the suffering Russian soul
We suffer too, without being able to name our suffering
Listen to Shostakovich and recognize it
Music speaks to suffering and redemption
More fully than any words can
He suffered for us, the martyr
Dmitri Dmitrievich Shostakovich (1906 – 1975)
Glimpses While Living 