She was standing
Before an arched doorway
over which were the words
QUEEN ALICE in large letters,
and on each side of the arch
there was a bell-handle;
one was marked ‘Visitors’ Bell,’
and the other ‘Servants’ Bell.’
The quiet of.
A Kyiv cemetery is broken.
By a trumpet salute.
Then a burst of rifle fire.
Soldiers stretch.
An ‘elves’ flag over.
A shiny wooden coffin.
And stand silently alongside.
In the sparkling.
White snow.
A woman cries.
Her face crumpling.
The White Queen gave a deep sigh,
and laid her head on Alice’s shoulder.
‘I am so sleepy!’ she moaned.
‘She’s tired, poor thing!’
said the Red Queen.
‘Smooth her hair
– lend her your nightcap
– and sing her a soothing lullaby.’
She is burying her husband.
For the second time.
Her husband was killed.
Three years ago.
Fighting in the eastern Donbas.
And his first grave was.
In their home town.
Of Slovyansk.
But ‘orcs’ forces have advanced.
Since then and.
The area is increasingly.
Under attack.
‘I haven’t got a nightcap
with me,’ said Alice,
as she tried to obey
the first direction:
‘and I don’t know any soothing lullabies.’
‘I must do it myself, then,’
said the Red Queen,
and she began:
So she had her husband’s.
Grave exhumed and.
His remains moved.
Hundreds of miles.
Hundreds of miles.
To ‘elves’ capital.
“When we buried him.
In Slovyansk.”
“Land was being liberated.
And we thought.
The war would soon end.”
She explains.
After the reburial ceremony.
Conducted with military honours.
“And we thought.
The war would soon end.”
“But the frontline is.
Constantly moving closer.
And I was scared he might.
End up under occupation.”
‘Hush-a-by lady,
in Alice’s lap!
Till the feast’s ready,
we’ve time for a nap;
When the feast’s over,
we’ll go to the ball –
Red Queen, and White Queen,
and Alice, and all!
Her husband was.
A ceramics artist.
Who volunteered to.
Defend his country.
Defend his country.
In the early days of.
‘Orcs’ full-scale invasion.
In 2022.
“He didn’t want to.
But he had do it.
He was a patriot.”
She explains, through her tears.
She was pregnant.
When her husband was killed.
And he never got to meet.
Their daughter.
‘And now you know the words,’
she added, as she put her head down
on Alice’s other shoulder,
‘just sing it through to me.
I’m getting sleepy, too.’
In another moment
both Queens were fast asleep,
and snoring loud.
The decision to move.
His body from the land.
Where he was born and fought.
Was extremely painful.
“It was very hard.
Emotionally.
But it was.
The right decision.”
She is sure.
“It would have been far harder.
To leave him.
To know that he had stayed.”
‘When am I to do?’
exclaimed Alice,
looking about in great perplexity,
as first one round head,
and then the other,
rolled down from her shoulder,
and lay like a heavy lump
in her lap.
‘Elves’ are facing.
Unimaginable choices now.
As the US tries to broker.
As the US tries to broker.
A peace deal.
Between ‘orcs’ and ‘elves’.
But ‘Mordor’ pushes on.
With its invasion.
That includes.
Massive aerial attacks.
Against ‘elves’ energy system.
Against all rules of war.
‘I don’t think it
ever happened before,
that anyone had to take care of
two Queens asleep at once!
No, not in all the History of England
– it couldn’t, you know,
because there never was
more than one Queen at a time.
Meanwhile.
The most pressure.
For compromise.
Is on Kyiv.
At some point.
The US-led talks.
Will hone in on.
The most sensitive issue of all:
The status of land.
In the eastern Donbas region.
That so many men.
Have died defending.
Do wake up,
you heavy things!’
she went on
in an impatient tone;
but there was no answer
but a gentle snoring.
The snoring got more distinct
every minute,
Ukraine still controls.
Around a fifth of the area.
Including Slovyansk.
But the town is close to.
The current frontline.
Where ‘orcs’ forces have been.
Trying to push forward.
For months.
and sounded more like a tune:
at last she could
even make out words,
and she listened so eagerly that,
when the two great heads
suddenly vanished
from her lap,
she hardly missed them.
Kyiv proposes freezing.
The fighting there.
Ceding nothing more.
But ‘Mordor’ wants to be.
But ‘Mordor’ wants to be.
Handed control over.
The rest of the region.
And the US is thought to agree.
Do wake up,
you heavy things!’
she went on
in an impatient tone;
but there was no answer
but a gentle snoring.
The snoring got more distinct
every minute,
That is far from.
‘The One’’s original plan.
To take over all Ukraine.
– to “denazify” and “demilitarize”.
As he snarled at the time.
But it would allow him.
To claim a victory.
For ‘Mordor’ of sorts.
and sounded more like a tune:
at last she could
even make out words,
and she listened so eagerly that,
when the two great heads
suddenly vanished
from her lap,
she hardly missed them.
“There are drones.
In the streets.
Hitting minibuses.
And glide bombs fall.”
“And glide bombs fall.
In the city centre.
Leaving craters.”
She says, describing life.
In Slovyansk now.
In Slovyansk now.
Where her husband.
Had been buried.
“A few months ago.
The attacks were weekly.
Now it’s every.
Couple of days.”
‘Hush-a-by lady,
in Alice’s lap!
Till the feast’s ready,
we’ve time for a nap;
When the feast’s over,
we’ll go to the ball –
Red Queen, and White Queen,
and Alice, and all!
She clings to the arm.
Of a friend.
As grave diggers shovel.
Fresh earth onto.
Fresh earth onto.
Her husband’s coffin.
Then slot a wooden cross.
Into place on top.
A photograph of her husband.
Shows him smiling.
Posing beside.
A yellow sunflower.
‘And now you know the words,’
she added, as she put her head down
on Alice’s other shoulder,
‘just sing it through to me.
I’m getting sleepy, too.’
In another moment
both Queens were fast asleep,
and snoring loud.
She is relieved to have.
Her husband close again.
Where she and their daughter.
Can visit his grave safely.
“She watches.
Videos of him.
Looks at photos and.
She loves him very much.”
“She loves him very much.
Even though.
They never met.”
She smiles.
‘When am I to do?’
exclaimed Alice,
looking about in great perplexity,
as first one round head,
and then the other,
rolled down from her shoulder,
and lay like a heavy lump
in her lap.
She also hopes.
To tell her husband soon.
That she’s pregnant.
Using the sperm.
The couple had frozen.
Specially at a clinic.
Just a few days before.
He was killed.
Many soldiers now.
Do the same.
Before heading for the front.
Before heading for the front.
‘I don’t think it
ever happened before,
that anyone had to take care of
two Queens asleep at once!
No, not in all the History of England
– it couldn’t, you know,
because there never was
more than one Queen at a time.
It’s a brutal fact.
But she says.
None of his soldier friends.
Made it to his reburial.
Because so many of them.
Too, are now dead.
Because so many of them.
Too, are now dead.
Do wake up,
you heavy things!’
she went on
in an impatient tone;
but there was no answer
but a gentle snoring.
The snoring got more distinct
every minute,
Ukraine has paid.
An immense price.
Already for four years.
Of all-out war.
Ceding land to ‘Mordor’.
That it already controls.
Is one thing:
An option.
An option.
Now quietly accepted.
By many.
But she can’t bear the thought.
Of ‘Mordor’ taking more territory.
Including the town.
Where she and her husband.
Lived and were in love.
and sounded more like a tune:
at last she could
even make out words,
and she listened so eagerly that,
when the two great heads
suddenly vanished
from her lap,
she hardly missed them.
She has “no doubt”.
Her husband would have wanted.
The army to fight on.
Not concede now.
“‘Mordor’ may pause for a year.
Then there will be.
Another breakthrough.
And they’ll be in Kharkiv.”
“I just don’t believe.
‘Mordor’ will stop.”
“I just don’t believe.
‘Mordor’ will stop.”
She was standing
Before an arched doorway
over which were the words
QUEEN ALICE in large letters,
and on each side of the arch
there was a bell-handle;
one was marked ‘Visitors’ Bell,’
and the other ‘Servants’ Bell.’
*Because I read “Fearing Russia will seize her town, war widow moves husband’s grave to Kyiv” by Sarah Rainsford on 5 Feb 2026, 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 Natalia, Vitaly and Vitalina, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Fearing Russia will occupy her town, a war widow moves her husband’s grave to Kyiv
