WAKA is 'the music of the Primes'.

In the war’s third year.

No end is in sight.

Momentum in long wars.

Shifts back and forth.

 

 

Wounded men from.

The garden centre.

Lying in hospital beds.

With shattered limbs.

 

“Honestly.

I don’t know what will happen.”

His legs were crushed.

By the ceiling as it collapsed.

 

“I’d like it to end soon.

But I don’t know how.”

In the war’s third year.

No end is in sight.

 

In the bed opposite.

Another man said.

Ukraine could not do.

A deal with ‘Mordor’.

 

He had fallen badly.

As he escaped the fire.

From a second-floor window.

“I think we must beat them.”

 

“They came here.

With bad intentions.”

Momentum in long wars.

Shifts back and forth.

 

 

In the war’s third year.

No end is in sight.

Momentum in long wars.

Shifts back and forth.

 

 

*Because I read “Jeremy Bowen: Ukraine faces its worst crisis since the war began” by Jeremy Bowen on 28 May 2024, 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 Vitalii and Oleksandr.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:

Ukraine war: Kharkiv targeted as Russia grows in strength (bbc.com)