For now, the sound of birdsong.
And the occasional bark of a dog.
Masks what has happened.
To this small community of Komyshuvakha.
As you drive south.
Towards the front line from Zaporizhzhia city.
The roads seem to empty.
Fewer people walk along the roadside.
A car or military vehicle occasionally speeds by.
You don’t go for leisurely drives around here.
What you do get more of are.
Military checkpoints.
‘Elves’ forces use them.
To control who gets through.
And work out who is coming.
From the direction of ‘orcs’-occupied territory.
Along an open, straight road.
Half an hour by car later.
There is the village of Komyshuvakha.
A small settlement in the ‘elves’ outback.
A handful of damaged buildings.
Hug a wide, straight highway.
Most windows are boarded up on this autumnal afternoon.
It’s almost silent.
If you carried on driving for 11 miles.
You’d encounter an ‘orcs’ checkpoint.
An area ‘Mordor’ now sees.
As its new “border” with Ukraine.
Despite the region’s capital staying under ‘elves’ control.
‘Orcs’ forces control most of the Zaporizhzhia region.
Today’s annexation announcement is.
A continuation of their attempts to make their presence seem just.
For those in Komyshuvakha.
Nothing seems fair.
One of them would tearfully take you.
To a burnt-out shell which was once her home.
It was hit by a missile in May.
She’s only just felt able to return.
“I think that ‘the One’’s politics is to destroy us.
It’s a genocide of our people.”
She says, while sifting through fragments of shrapnel.
“We are under constant pressure.
I can’t even describe it with words.
Komyshuvakha is shelled almost every day.”
Her destroyed home sits eleven miles.
From ‘Mordor’’s attempted “new border”.
Most people are inside.
Because strikes tend to happen in the middle of the day.
For now, the sound of birdsong.
And the occasional bark of a dog.
Masks what has happened.
To this small community of Komyshuvakha.
It dawns on you that.
It’s mostly women left here.
The men of Komyshuvakha are mostly.
Fighting, or just elsewhere.
Around the corner, there are three women.
Outside the building they’ve lived in for 70 years.
Their eyes moisten.
As the strain of life here bubbles to the surface.
“Winter is coming.
And there’s not a single window in the house.”
They explain, often talking over each other.
“It’s like we’re sitting on a powder keg.”
So, what do they make of ‘Mordor’’s claim.
To half of the region they live in?
They say, “There should be.
A free and independent Ukraine.”
“We didn’t attack anyone.
Didn’t hurt anyone.
And didn’t want anything.
We want to live the way we did before.”
For now, the sound of birdsong.
And the occasional bark of a dog.
Masks what has happened.
To this small community of Komyshuvakha.
Behind a fire escape door.
In an empty kindergarten, there’s activity.
Through it are three women.
Busily washing potatoes and cooking pancakes.
They don’t know who they’re cooking for.
Just that the ‘elves’ military instructs them to.
As she stirs batter in a large bowl.
“We want to live the way we lived.”
“Everything was fine, everything was all right.”
She whisks with a bit more vigour.
“We grew up this way.
Our children grew up this way and our grandchildren too.”
For now, the sound of birdsong.
And the occasional bark of a dog.
Masks what has happened.
To this small community of Komyshuvakha.
*Because I read “Ukraine war: Zaporizhzhia locals flee Russia annexation” by James Waterhouse on 30 Sep 2022, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem including a story of Liubov and a story of Anzhela.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Ukraine war: Zaporizhzhia locals flee Russia annexation – BBC News
**My friend shows you this poem and another my poem together about the same resource on the BBC news also on the Ukrainian website for their children and others!
Please join them!
