Rest In Peace, Danya...

He had a tall

red night-cap on,

with a tassel, and

he was lying crumpled up

 

into a sort of untidy heap,

and snoring loud

– ‘fit to snore his head off!’

as Tweedledum remarked.

 

‘I’m afraid he’ll catch cold

with lying on the damp grass,’

said Alice, who was

a very thoughtful little girl.

 

‘He’s dreaming now,’

said Tweedledee:

‘and what do you think

he’s dreaming about?’

 

 

The Zaporizhzhia regional head.

Called the hit.

On the maternity hospital.

– which occurred.

 

As two women.

Were giving birth –

Further “proof of.

A war directed against life”.

 

 

Alice said, ‘Nobody

can guess that.’

‘Why, about you!’

Tweedledee exclaimed,

 

clapping his hands triumphantly.

‘And if he left off

dreaming about you,

where do you suppose you’d be?’

 

 

The site was.

Maternity Hospital No.3.

On Bocharova Street.

In the east of the city.

 

Footage shared across.

Social media carried.

The watermarks of national.

And local administrations.

 

And showed offices.

Rooms with beds.

For patients.

And a children’s room.

 

With the windows broken.

And covered in debris.

Maternity Hospital No.3.

On Bocharova Street.

 

 

‘Where I am now,

of course,’ said Alice.

‘Not you!’ Tweedledee

retorted contemptuously.

 

‘You’d be nowhere.

Why, you’re only

a sort of thing

in his dream!’

 

 

Some footage showed.

Degrees of fire damage.

While two videos showed.

A fire still burning.

 

On the first storey.

Another showed fire fighters.

Breaking down interior doors.

And ferrying patients away.

 

 

‘If that there King was to wake,’

added Tweedledum,

‘you’d go out – bang! –

just like a candle!’

 

‘I shouldn’t!’

Alice exclaimed indignantly.

‘Besides, if I’m only

a sort of thing

 

 

The ‘elf’ Foreign Minister said.

The hospital attack.

Showed ‘the One’.

Was pursuing.

 

A “war against civilians.

Contrary to peace efforts”.

A “war against civilians.

Contrary to peace efforts”.

 

 

in his dream,

what are you,

I should like to know?’

‘Ditto,’ said Tweedledum.

 

‘Ditto, ditto!’ cried Tweedledee.

He shouted this

so loud that Alice

couldn’t help saying,

 

 

The Zaporizhzhia regional head.

Later reported.

Three people.

Had been injured.

 

Three people.

Had been injured.

By a separate strike.

In a residential area.

 

 

‘Hush! You’ll be

waking him,

I’m afraid,

if you make so much noise.’

 

‘Well, it’s no use your talking

about waking him,’

said Tweedledum,

‘when you’re only

 

one of the things

in his dream.

You know very well

you’re not real.’

 

‘I am real!’ said Alice,

and began to cry.

‘I am real!’ said Alice,

and began to cry.

 

 

*Because I read “Twelve miners killed by Russian strike in Ukraine, officials say” by Maia Davies on 2 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, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:

Twelve miners killed by Russian strike in Ukraine, officials say