Dnipro, Ukraine’s.
Third largest city.
Reflects that sense of.
War weariness too.
At an afternoon performance.
Of a humorous play.
There are still reminders.
Of the war.
– a minute’s silence.
To remember the fallen.
Followed by ‘elves’.
National anthem.
But some in the audience.
Admit they’re.
Also hoping for.
A longer-lasting release.
Dnipro, Ukraine’s.
Third largest city.
Reflects that sense of.
War weariness too.
A woman says “unfortunately.
There are fewer of us.
We’re getting some help.
But it’s not enough.”
“We’re getting some help.
But it’s not enough.
– that’s why we have to.
Sit down and negotiate.”
The other says:
“There’s no easy answer.
A lot of our soldiers.
Have been killed.”
“They fought for something.
– for our territories.
But I want the war.
To end”.
Dnipro, Ukraine’s.
Third largest city.
Reflects that sense of.
War weariness too.
It’s regularly targeted.
By ‘orcs’ missiles and drones.
The air-raid sirens wail.
Intermittently, day and night.
When they’re silent.
‘Elves’ try to find.
Some sense of normality.
In these abnormal times.
Some sense of normality.
In these abnormal times.
– including by going.
To the theatre.
Dnipro, Ukraine’s.
Third largest city.
Reflects that sense of.
War weariness too.
*Because I read “Can Ukraine face another year of war?” by Jonathan Beale on 30 Dec 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, including a story of Ludmyla and Kseniia.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
