She had contacted.
Every agency.
She could think of.
She had walked every step.
She had walked every step.
Her son could have taken.
After the ‘orcs’ opened fire.
At his car.
Leaving him to flee with.
A bullet in his leg.
Leaving him to flee with.
A bullet in his leg.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
One thing was certain, that.
The white kitten had nothing to do with it.
She had looked.
In mass graves.
Reviewed pictures of the dead.
Watched exhumations.
And after a month.
She knew no more than.
When she had started.
Then a stranger called.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
White Pawn to play.
And win in eleven moves.
The stranger had just.
Been released from.
An ‘orcs’ prison.
In Kursk.
At morning roll call.
The prisoners could not.
See one another.
But they could hear.
But they could hear.
Each person state.
Their full name.
And home village.
He memorised.
As many names and.
Places as he could.
– 10 in total, he said –
And on 9 May 2022.
He called her to say.
That he had heard.
Her son’s voice.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘I am real!’ said Alice,
and began to cry.
Like her son.
He was a civilian.
Captured from Bucha.
At the start of the war.
When hundreds of civilians.
Were taken from this area.
Her son was 29.
At the time.
Now 32.
He is still.
In the prison.
In Kursk.
The stranger couldn’t.
Explain to her.
Why he had been released.
And her son hadn’t.
She was just glad.
To hear that.
Her son was alive.
Her son was alive.
“I was so overjoyed.
I lost the stutter.
I’d had since.
He was taken.”
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
White Pawn to play.
And win in eleven moves.
Three years later.
To the day.
She was sitting.
In a café in Bucha.
Not far from where.
Her son was abducted.
Looking over the scant evidence.
That he was still alive:
Two letters from him.
– short, boilerplate texts.
Written in ‘orcs’-language.
Telling her.
He was well fed.
And well looked after.
Each letter had taken.
Around three months.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
‘I am real!’ said Alice,
and began to cry.
Each letter had taken.
Around three months.
To reach her.
Making it hard for her.
To feel very connected.
To her son.
At any point.
In time.
“My son is very gentle.
And sensitive,” she said.
With the pained expression.
Of a parent.
Who cannot protect.
Their child.
Who cannot protect.
Their child.
She was looking at.
Pictures of her son.
Ballroom dancing.
– a hobby from a young age.
“He is so vulnerable.
I worry that.
He will lose.
His sanity there.”
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
White Pawn to play.
And win in eleven moves.
She shuddered to hear.
The ‘orcs’-language now.
“Because it is the language.
My son is being tortured in.”
There is also the issue of.
What is missed.
During son’s detention.
His father passed away.
Unexpectedly at just 50.
Carrying a well of guilt.
That he was not able to.
Protect his son.
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
The chessmen were walking about.
Two and two!
Through the Looking-Glass.
And what Alice found there.
One thing was certain, that.
The white kitten had nothing to do with it.
All she can do is.
Prepare mentally for.
Her son’s return.
She expected to.
“Feel every possible emotion.
It is all I think about.
All the time.
Every day.”
*Because I read “Families of Ukraine’s missing fear peace will not bring them home” by Joel Gunter on 8 Jun 2024, 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 Tatyana, Vladislav and Serhii, led by ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Families of Ukraine’s missing fear peace will not bring them home
