The sound of someone playing the recorder.
Floats down the corridor.
As a 10-year-old sits in front of.
A laptop in what was once a classroom.
Appropriately enough.
She is doing an online lesson.
With the school.
She can no longer physically attend.
She came here, in an old school.
With her mother and grandmother.
From Kostyantynivka.
In the Donetsk region.
Where shelling had forced them.
To live in a basement.
They share a bathroom and kitchen.
With the other residents.
“I really like it here.”
Says her mother and grandmother agrees.
But tears begin to stream down.
Both women’s faces.
“We want to go home.
We want all this to end.”
She watches as they weep.
Unsurprised by their pain.
Ukraine’s refugee children may now.
Be far away from the front line.
But their lives continue.
To be shaped by the conflict.
“I really like it here.”
Says her mother and grandmother agrees.
But tears begin to stream down.
Both women’s faces.
“We want to go home.
We want all this to end.”
She watches as they weep.
Unsurprised by their pain.
Ukraine’s refugee children may now.
Be far away from the front line.
But their lives continue.
To be shaped by the conflict.
*Because I read “Ukraine war: Russian attacks force evacuations of children” by Jenny Hill on 1 Nov 2023, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem as a story of Varvara, her mother Iryna and grandmother Svitlana.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Ukraine war: Russian attacks force evacuations of children – BBC News
**My friend shows you this poem with another poem on the Ukrainian website for their children and others!
Please join them!
