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Vladimir I. Sirotin (1963-2016)

"I have one brother" used to be my answer To those who politely cared to ask. I now say "I used to have a brother" It's strange to me, this new and somber task. To some he was a source of inspiration A brilliant wordsmith, fighter for the truth To others constant source of irritation A fierce debater with the shortest fuse To parents he was unfinished project A constant worry over "fitting in". I loved debating him on any subject Somehow both of us would always win We had to choose in suffocating country To live in fear, drink, protest or leave He stayed and fought with words against the mighty Who jail and kill, and torture, and deceive. He left too soon to see his dreams come true I hope where he is, there's better view


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