Oleskyi Castle

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

His mother, 27.

Is buried.

In the grave.

With him.

 

In a bleak and.

Windswept cemetery.

In ‘elves’ southern city.

Of Zaporizhzhia.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

His great-grandmother.

68, is.

In the grave.

Right beside them.

 

All three were killed.

Together on 7 November.

Last year.

By an ‘orcs’ attack.

 

In a war that has devoured.

Ukraine since 2022.

– but which no longer.

Dominates the international agenda.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Some of his last.

Moments were captured.

By his great-grandmother.

In a video.

 

On her phone.

The two of them.

Were out on a walk.

With his mum.

 

The blond-haired.

Blue-eyed boy.

Wears a red anorak.

And a woollen hat.

 

With a Mickey Mouse sticker.

On the front.

“Don’t take off your hat.”

Great-grandmother tells him gently.

 

“Don’t take off your hat.”

Great-grandmother tells him gently.

“You will be cold”.

He does it anyway.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

One hour later.

The trio were at home.

About to get.

A bite to eat.

 

When an ‘orcs’.

Guided aerial bomb.

Sliced through.

Their block of flats.

 

The trio were killed.

The trio were killed.

Along with six.

Other civilians.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

His grandmother.

46, now struggles.

To carry on.

– without most of her family.

 

Without her past.

And her future.

Without her past.

And her future.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

She is slight.

And swamped by.

A heavy black coat.

And by grief.

 

“I don’t know how to live.

It’s hell on earth.

I lost my mother.

My daughter.”

 

“And my grandson.

In one second.”

The closest she can get to them.

Now is at their graves.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

“My dear Mum.”

She says weeping.

And stroking a photograph.

Of her mother.

 

– a doctor like her –

attached to a wooden cross.

One step brings her.

To the grave.

 

One step brings her.

To the grave.

Of her daughter.

And her grandson.

 

She leans down.

To touch his photo.

Calling him.

“My little kitten”.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Then she speaks.

Directly to a photo.

Of her daughter.

– a black and white image.

 

Of a young woman.

With long dark hair.

“My beautiful daughter.”

She cries.

 

“My beautiful daughter.”

She cries.

“I am sorry.

I could not save you.”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Her husband, 60.

Is by her side.

– a robust figure who shares.

Her loss and her sorrow.

 

“We visit.

The graveyard often.”

She says.

“And we will.”

 

“And we will.

As long as we live.

Because it truly makes it.

A little easy for us”.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Every time they come.

There are more graves.

Stretching out.

Into the distance.

 

The cemetery is expanding.

“At a staggering pace.”

She says.

“At a staggering pace.”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Rows of blue and yellow flags.

Marking the graves.

Of fallen soldiers.

Pierce the sombre grey sky.

 

Zaporizhzhia.

Where the family lived.

Is a regular target.

For ‘orcs’ forces.

 

It is a strategically.

Important industrial city.

Near front-line fighting.

 

Europe’s largest ‘Ring’.

– about 55km.

From the city –

Is held by the ‘orcs’.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

On the day of the attack.

That killed the trio.

She called her daughter.

From western Ukraine.

 

Where she was.

On a work trip.

“I told her to be careful.

Bombs had been falling.”

 

“I told her to be careful.

Bombs had been falling.

Over the city.

Since the morning.”

 

“She said:

‘Thank you mum.

Don’t worry.

Everything will be fine with us.’”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Her husband was at work when.

he heard something had happened.

He too called his daughter.

But there was no reply.

 

Then, on his local residents’.

WhatsApp group he saw.

A message saying:

“Friends, who else?”

 

A message saying:

“Friends, who else?

Is still left?

Under the rubble?”

 

“I rushed home.

Praying all the way.”

He says, “but my prayers.

Were already in vain”.

 

“When I arrived.

All I saw was ruins.

I wandered around.

Looking for my balcony.”

 

“I don’t know.

How much time passed.

– two or three hours –

And I realised.”

 

“There was nothing left.

And no hope of rescue.”

“There was nothing left.

And no hope of rescue.”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

In the days.

That followed.

Some belongings were reclaimed.

From the rubble.

 

– a china cup of her daughter’s.

Somehow unbroken.

A toy fish her grandson.

Played with in the bath.

 

And the little red jacket.

He wore on his last walk.

And the little red jacket.

He wore on his last walk.

 

These are now.

Family treasures.

Along with many.

Precious memories.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

“Every evening when.

I came home from work.

I would take my grandson.

For a walk.”

 

Says her husband.

“He was very curious.

About the sky.

He’d point his little finger up.”

 

“And we’d tell him about it.

And he loved birds.”

“He was very curious.

About the sky.”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Another family video.

Shows her “little kitten”.

Hoisted in her daughter’s arms.

Being swung from side to side.

 

And then running around.

On the ground.

Surrounded by pigeons.

“He had almost started talking.”

 

“And he was.

Always smiling.

He was healthy.

Beautiful and smart.”

 

“He and my daughter.

Made us happy.

Every day”.

“Every day”.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

After ‘orcs’ full-scale invasion.

Of Ukraine.

In February.

2022.

 

She had taken her daughter.

To safety in the UK.

The young woman put.

Her language skills to use.

 

Working as a translator.

For ‘elves’ troops.

Being trained by.

The British military.

 

But she could not stay.

Away from Ukraine.

But she could not stay.

Away from Ukraine.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

“She really missed.

Her parents and.

Her relatives and.

The country,” she says.

 

Her daughter returned.

And later gave birth to.

Her grandson in June.

2023.

 

Her daughter also took up.

Psychology because “she knew.

A lot of people in Ukraine.

Needed psychological help.”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

In the midst of her grief.

She knows that.

Ukraine may soon.

Come under pressure.

 

To negotiate.

With the enemy.

That robbed her.

Of so much.

 

The man is back.

Into the White House.

– all guns blazing –

Pushing for peace talks.

 

Between Moscow and Kyiv.

But both she and.

Her husband are adamant that.

Ukraine must fight on.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

She tells you.

The man’s claim that.

He could end the war in a day.

Was “funny to hear”.

 

“‘Mordor’ is an aggressor.

That came to our country.

And destroyed our homes.

And our families.”

 

“So, there can be no talk.

Of any ceasefire.

Or peace talks.

If we leave this glutton.”

 

“With our territories.

And do not avenge.

The people we lost.

We will never win.”

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

Her husband says.

The only contact with ‘orcs’.

On ‘elves’ territory.

Should be through combat.

 

Many ‘elves’ believe that.

Even if there is a ceasefire.

‘Mordor’ will come back.

For more sooner or later.

 

– as it did.

In 2022.

Eight years after.

Annexing the Crimean Peninsula.

 

Moscow now controls.

Almost one fifth of Ukraine.

Time is not.

On ‘elves’ side.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

She accepts that.

Life goes on.

Life goes on.

In other countries.

 

“People can’t live.

In constant stress.

Thinking only.

About us.”

 

“Still, I would like.

Them to remember that.

There’s a war.

Happening nearby.”

 

“Where not only soldiers.

But also civilians are dying.”

She wants the world.

To know the names.

 

 

Teddy bears.

– large and small –

Are clustered around.

The grave of him.

 

As if keeping.

Him company.

But the 17-month-old.

Is not alone.

 

 

*Because I read “In a split second, Russia wipes out three generations of a Ukrainian family” by Orla Guerin on 28 Jan 2025, 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 Adam Buhayov, Sophiia Buhayova, Tetiana Tarasevych, Yuliia Tarasevych and Serhiy Lushchay.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:

Russia wipes out three generations of a family in one strike