While Moscow considers.
A temporary ceasefire.
Its military machine continues.
To press its advantage.
On the front line.
Diplomatic negotiations.
Can be slow.
And difficult.
But on the battlefield.
They can be.
Measured in.
Lost lives.
‘Elves’ soldiers.
On the battlefield say.
They don’t expect to see.
The war end any time soon.
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
At a military hospital.
In eastern Ukraine.
The injured arrive.
By ambulance in waves.
Here, there’s.
An obvious disconnect.
Between diplomacy.
Taking place.
Between diplomacy.
Taking place.
Far from the fighting.
And the brutality of battle.
– where human bodies are.
Still being smashed.
Shredded and scarred.
By bombs and bullets.
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
You watch another.
Two dozen injured.
‘Elves’ soldiers.
Being loaded on.
To a bus to be taken.
To a hospital in Dnipro.
– some walking wounded.
Others carried on stretchers.
The bus is fitted out.
With medical equipment.
To monitor.
The injured.
As they’re driven fast.
Over potholed roads.
The men on board are.
The less severely wounded.
Most have been hit.
By shrapnel.
Most have been hit.
By shrapnel.
The cause is often.
What’s now the most prolific.
And feared weapon.
On the front line – drones.
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
None of those.
You talked to believe.
This war will be ending.
Any time soon.
A thirty-year-old is.
On a stretcher.
With an IV drip.
To relieve some of the pain.
From several shrapnel wounds.
Across his body.
From several shrapnel wounds.
Across his body.
He says he’d heard.
The talk of a temporary.
30-day ceasefire.
But adds:
“I consider ‘the One’.
A murderer and.
Murderers don’t agree.
So easily.”
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
The man, who’s sitting.
Up nearby, says:
“I don’t believe it.”
He says that.
Near the besieged city.
Of Pokrovsk.
They were facing.
‘Orcs’ storm attacks.
Every single day.
“I doubt there will.
Be a truce.”
He tells you.
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
Another soldier says.
This is the second time.
He has been injured.
“I don’t believe.”
“There will be a ceasefire.
I had a lot of friends.
Who are not.
With us any more.”
“I would like to believe.
That all will be good.
But you can’t trust.
‘Mordor’. Never.”
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
A 22-year-old medical student.
Has been working.
With the team.
For the last 18 months.
She too is sceptical about.
The chances of a ceasefire:
“I cannot believe it.
But I really wish it would happen.”
When she first heard.
The news that the US.
And Ukraine had agreed.
To press for a ceasefire.
‘Orcs’ drones were flying.
Over their base.
Being engaged by.
‘Elves’ air defences.
To her, talk of peace.
Is from a parallel universe.
To her, talk of peace.
Is from a parallel universe.
She says “at least.
It’s good that.
Ukraine and America.
Are talking again”.
But as for hopes of.
Any ceasefire.
She points to.
The recent past.
“Looking at all.
The ceasefire calls.
That we had.
In the past.”
“Those didn’t work.
How is this going to work?”
She asks.
“How is this going to work?”
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
Her fellow medic joined.
The Hospitallers from Sweden.
He says he understands.
What it’s like.
What it’s like.
When a smaller nation.
Is attacked by.
Its giant neighbour.
His grandfather fought.
For Finland against ‘Mordor’.
During World War Two.
History counts.
When he first arrived.
In Ukraine.
He used to ask.
Injured soldiers.
What they would do.
After the war.
He doesn’t any more.
“No-one wants to answer that.”
He says, “because.
They don’t want.
To be disappointed.
They don’t dare to hope.”
He’s not ruling out.
A ceasefire.
But he adds:
“You can’t trust ‘the One’.”
“You can’t trust ‘the One’.
To do anything.
That’s not beneficial.
To ‘the One’.”
The large medical bus.
Is operated by ‘elves’.
Volunteer Army Medical Battalion.
– known as the Hospitallers.
They transport.
scores of.
Injured soldiers.
Every day.
Ukraine has plenty.
Of bitter experience.
Of negotiating.
With ‘Mordor’.
France and Germany.
Brokered ceasefires.
In 2014.
And 2015.
When ‘orcs’-backed forces.
First took parts of.
Eastern Ukraine and Crimea.
They didn’t work.
Nor did they deter.
‘Mordor’ from carrying out.
Its full-scale invasion of.
Ukraine eight years later.
*Because I read “Peace talks are in parallel universe, say Ukraine front-line troops” by Jonathan Beale on 14 Mar 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 Maksym, a story of Vova, a story of Maksym, a story of Sofiia, and a story of Daniel.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Peace talks are in parallel universe, say Ukraine front-line troops
