Pummelling surrounding villages.
Forcing thousands to flee.
‘Orcs’ are on the outskirts.
To the east and south.
She has decided.
For her youngest children.
It’s time to leave Mykolaiv.
To hug and goodbye.
As the bombardment continues.
She can’t let them play outside.
There is shelling every day.
She wants them to be somewhere safe.
As long as she can.
She holds on to them.
Until it’s time to go.
One under each arm.
Then it is too much.
She turns her back.
Then it is too much.
She sobs as they leave.
“I will see them again.
When the bombing stops.”
But when that will be?
No-one knows.
Pummelling surrounding villages.
Forcing thousands to flee.
‘Orcs’ are on the outskirts.
To the east and south.
Near the frontline in Mykolaiv.
In a southern village.
Since ‘orcs’ were pushed back.
Dozens of families have returned.
With the bomb craters.
“Look, I’ve turned them into flower beds.”
The village head tells proudly.
“Thank God, we are holding on.”
“Sometimes I’m very scared.
‘Orcs’ might just kidnap me.
But they have no business here.
They should know better than loitering on our land.”
At her door.
Once ‘orcs’ have been.
She is determined.
They will not be back.
“We believe that.
The victory is going to be ours.”
For the last 100 days.
She has lived in both defiance and dread.
*Because I read “War in Ukraine: We are holding on, say Mykolaiv residents” by Laura Bicker, Mykolaiv on 4 June 2022, on the BBC News, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 April 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem as a story of Liudmyla and a story of Natalia.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
War in Ukraine: We are holding on, say Mykolaiv residents – BBC News
**My friend shows you this poem also on the Ukrainian website for their children and others!
Please join them!
