“We’re like rats.
We can survive anything.”
Said a 73-year-old.
Retired teacher.
As she and her husband.
Slowly dragged.
The drenched contents.
Of their small cottage outside.
At one point the flood waters reached.
The roof of their home.
On Tchaikovsky Street.
Close to the Dnipro River.
But now only a few big puddles.
Remained outside.
Beside several small boats.
Which had been used during the flooding.
“At least this happened.
At the start of summer.
We still have time.
To dry things out.”
Said her husband.
Stacking some stinking.
Rotting furniture.
In the yard.
Further south below.
The destroyed Kakhovka dam.
The heaving flood waters that swept.
Without warning, have largely abated.
Through the port city of Kherson.
And smaller towns.
Killing dozens of people.
And forcing thousands to flee.
Earlier that morning.
Several ‘orcs’ artillery shells.
Had crashed into.
The centre of Kherson.
And many more would land.
In this neighbourhood.
In the coming hours and days.
Fired from ‘orcs’ positions on the far bank.
‘Elves’ troops were blocking cars.
From getting too close to the river.
And much of the city.
Seemed deserted.
Further south below.
The destroyed Kakhovka dam.
The heaving flood waters that swept.
Without warning, have largely abated.
Through the port city of Kherson.
And smaller towns.
Killing dozens of people.
And forcing thousands to flee.
“Today was wonderful.”
She’d come to help her parents.
On Tchaikovsky Street.
Clean up after the flood.
She was referring to news.
About ‘elves’ counter-offensive.
“Our guys are doing a great job.
We can tell who is shooting where.”
“Our guys have had some big successes.
Against ‘orcs’ positions.
And they’ve hit some.
Large ammunition depots.”
“I just wish it was all happening.
A bit quicker.”
Nearby, her father, 78.
Slumped into a chair.
He’d been kneeling, with an axe.
To strip water-logged sections off.
An old cabinet.
But had stood up too fast.
Her parents live.
In Tchaikovsky Street.
In the centre of Kherson.
“He was born here.”
“He’s spent his whole life here.
Most of the people who’ve stayed.
In this neighbourhood are elderly.
They’re not going anywhere.”
*Because I read “Ukraine war: Living without water in a town devastated by dam breach” by Andrew Harding on 24 June 2023, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 Apr 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem as a story of Irina and Evhenii, and a story of Oksana and Vladimir.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Ukraine war: Living without water in a town devastated by dam breach – BBC News
**My friend shows you this poem with another poem together also on the Ukrainian website for their children and others!
Please join them!
