Malokaterynivka’s challenge.
Of finding a new purpose.
Lies at the heart of.
Ukraine’s future.
And while politicians.
Talk about talks.
‘Elves’ continue.
To fight and die.
“I have no plans.
For the future at all.”
Says a man, standing next to.
An empty, frozen paddock.
Where he used to work.
As a fisherman.
On the bank of the Dnipro river.
In southern Ukraine.
“If I wake up in the morning.
That’s already pretty good.”
“If I wake up in the morning.
That’s already pretty good.”
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
Malokaterynivka sits.
Just 15km north.
Of the front line.
In ‘elves’ Zaporizhzhia region.
If US President succeeds.
In halting the war.
Malokaterynivka is.
Hoping to end up.
Malokaterynivka is.
Hoping to end up.
On the right side.
Of that front line.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
You last visited this area.
In 2023.
When Ukraine launched.
A much-anticipated counter-offensive.
At the time.
‘Elves’ dared to.
Dream of winning.
This war.
They had, after all, won.
The battle of Kyiv.
And liberated swathes.
Of territory elsewhere.
But 18 months on.
Thunder-like artillery exchanges.
Reflect the failure of that operation.
And ‘orcs’ dominance.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
When the ‘orcs’-occupied Kakhovka dam.
Downstream was destroyed.
This became a vast, uninterrupted.
Expanse of scrubland.
The barren surroundings.
Reflect the frozen limbo.
In which Ukraine.
Finds itself.
The White House wants.
To end the war.
But it’s not as simple as.
Blowing a full-time whistle.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
“If the front line becomes.
A border.
It would be scary.
… fighting could break out.”
“It would be scary.
… fighting could break out.
At any moment.”
“At any moment.”
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
The exposed riverbed.
Separates your location.
From ‘orcs’-occupied territory.
Distant sunlight bounces off.
The metallic ‘Ring’.
In Zaporizhzhia.
In Moscow’s grip.
Since 2022.
Ukraine and the US.
Both want peace.
But that is where.
The consensus seems to end.
There are feelings.
Of betrayal.
There are feelings.
Of betrayal.
Commentators criticise either.
‘Gandalf the Green’ or.
The new foreign policy.
Of its biggest ally.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
“The border wouldn’t.
Depend on us.
It probably.
Won’t work out.”
“But Seoul is 30km.
From North Korea.
And they somehow.
Live and prosper.”
Malokaterynivka’s challenge.
Of finding a new purpose.
Lies at the heart of.
Ukraine’s future.
And while politicians.
Talk about talks.
‘Elves’ continue.
To fight and die.
Villagers gather.
Villagers gather.
For the funeral of.
A local soldier.
Half of the graves.
Half of the graves.
In the cemetery.
Are freshly dug.
The ceremony cannot last.
More than 25 minutes.
Because of the threat.
Of artillery.
Mourners flinch.
And duck for cover.
When his comrades fire off.
A gun salute.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
“I don’t have hope.
For a ceasefire.”
Says his widow.
Who nevertheless.
Who nevertheless.
Wants to be proved wrong.
“I don’t have hope.
For a ceasefire.”
“They just keep sending.
More and more.
Of our boys.
To the front.”
“If only they could find.
Some way to end it.”
“If only they could find.
Some way to end it.”
Malokaterynivka’s challenge.
Of finding a new purpose.
Lies at the heart of.
Ukraine’s future.
And while politicians.
Talk about talks.
‘Elves’ continue.
To fight and die.
Alongside the river is.
A disused rail line.
Surrounded by.
Barbed wire.
“It’s to stop.
‘Orcs’ agents from.
Sabotaging the track.”
Explains a woman.
Who has lived.
In Malokaterynivka.
Her whole life.
Her whole life.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
Trains used to run.
All the way.
To Crimea.
In the south.
“We hope that one day.
It will be restored.”
Says the 65-year-old.
Optimistically.
“And that one day.
We’ll go to our Crimea.”
“And that one day.
We’ll go to our Crimea.”
The peninsula’s 11 years.
Of ‘orcs’ occupation.
Makes it hard.
To imagine.
The front line here is.
Broadly in the same place.
– but the broad expanse.
Of river has gone.
‘Gandalf the Green’ insists.
He won’t sign.
Any agreement which.
Doesn’t include Ukraine.
So does she trust?
Him to get a deal?
Which protects her?
“We want to believe.”
“We want to believe.”
She replies.
After a deep breath.
After a deep breath.
Malokaterynivka’s challenge.
Of finding a new purpose.
Lies at the heart of.
Ukraine’s future.
And while politicians.
Talk about talks.
‘Elves’ continue.
To fight and die.
*Because I read “Trump wants peace. Ukrainians fear what that might look like” by James Waterhouse on14 Feb 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, including a story of Oleksandr, a story of Oleksandr and Natalya, a story of Lyudmyla.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
