change places;
and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice,
which is the thief?
Her life has been.
Reduced to waiting for.
The next phone call.
From her husband.
– never knowing.
if it might be the last.
The next phone call.
From her husband.
‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jujub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!’
A 31-year-old ‘elf’.
Fighter pilot.
Began defending the skies.
From the very first hours.
Of ‘orcs’ full-scale invasion.
In February.
2022.
And has now flown.
More than 200.
Perilous missions.
In his old Soviet-era.
Mig-29 warplane.
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
The squadron commander.
Has lost several comrades.
Has lost several comrades.
In the war.
Some were close friends.
Some were close friends.
Others were godfathers.
To each other’s children.
And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
But as US-led efforts.
To negotiate.
A ceasefire.
Gather pace.
– and fresh talks.
With ‘Mordor’ and Ukraine.
Planned on Monday –
Things have changed.
“If any ceasefire.
Comes about.
We will feel safer.”
She says.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing.
Across Ukraine.
More and more people.
Are openly talking.
About war fatigue.
They’re calling for.
An end to the most.
Brutal fighting in Europe.
Since World War Two.
And for firm guarantees.
Of Western protection.
To ensure.
‘Mordor’ can’t attack again.
What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.
What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.
At the same time.
She fears that.
Any deal could involve.
Accepting the loss of.
Four ‘elves’ regions.
In the south-east.
Partially seized.
By ‘Mordor’.
As well as Crimea.
Annexed by ‘Mordor’.
In 2014.
“Nobody will give us.”
“Back our lost territories”.
The 29-year-old says.
“They will stay.
Under ‘orcs’ occupation.”
What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.
What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.
Then poor Cordelia!
And yet no so; since,
I am sure, my love’s
more richer than my tongue.
She asks:
“What did so many men?
Our heroes?
Sacrifice their lives for?”
“If Ukraine can’t?
Fight for them?
And is forced?
To make concessions?”
What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.
What shall Cordelia do?
Love, and be silent.
Then poor Cordelia!
And yet no so; since,
I am sure, my love’s
more richer than my tongue.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing.
When she and he met.
The prospect of.
A full-scale war in Ukraine.
Seemed impossible.
She was an English teacher.
At a local children’s club.
In western Ukraine.
Attended by the daughter of.
One of his comrades.
The comrade offered to.
Set him up with her.
Who he described as.
“A very nice teacher”.
“A very nice teacher”.
At first he felt pressured.
By the arrangement.
– but he eventually.
Agreed to come.
Agreed to come.
He was glad he did.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
They soon started.
Seeing each other.
On one of their first dates.
He warned her.
He warned her.
He had a dangerous job.
She said it wouldn’t be.
A problem.
He was courageous.
Caring and protective.
And she was.
Falling in love.
What, art mad?
A man may see
how this world goes
with no eyes.
Look with thine ears:
see how yond justice rails
upon yond simple thief.
Hark, in thine ear:
change places;
and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice,
which is the thief?
He soon had to go on.
A long-term deployment.
Far from home.
Far from home.
They lost touch for a year.
And it seemed like.
Their relationship might.
Be over.
What, art mad?
A man may see
how this world goes
with no eyes.
Look with thine ears:
see how yond justice rails
upon yond simple thief.
Hark, in thine ear:
But then he returned.
With a giant bouquet.
Of flowers and.
Promised her.
He didn’t want.
To waste her time.
Within a year.
The two were married.
And they were soon.
Expecting their first child.
And they were soon.
Expecting their first child.
What, art mad?
A man may see
how this world goes
with no eyes.
It was only once.
‘Mordor’ launched.
Its full-scale invasion.
That she understood.
What he’d meant about.
The harsh realities.
The harsh realities.
Of his work.
change places;
and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice,
which is the thief?
Their daughter was.
Only three months old.
At the time.
He missed her early milestones:
Helping her take.
Her first steps.
Seeing her first teeth.
Come through and.
Comforting her.
During her first illness.
Their daughter was.
Only three months old.
‘If only I knew,’
she thought to herself,
‘which was neck and
which was waist!’
Evidently Humpty Dumpty
was very angry,
though he said nothing
for a minute or two.
“When he is deployed.
Far away from home.
I send him thousands of.
Our daughter’s photos.”
“To help him feel that.
At least virtually.
He is spending the day.
With us,” she says.
‘It’s a cravat, child,
and a beautiful one, as you say.
It’s a present from
the White King and Queen. There now!’
‘Is it really?’ said Alice,
quite pleased to find
that she had chosen
a good subject, after all.
On one nearby mission.
She put her daughter.
In a pram and.
Rushed to a checkpoint.
Where he could run out.
To catch them.
For five minutes.
For five minutes.
She brought him.
Home-made food.
They talked.
And found that.
And found that.
Every minute together.
Was worth the months.
They’d spent waiting.
‘They gave it me,’
Humpty Dumpty continued thoughtfully,
as he crossed one knee over the other
and clasped his hands round it,
‘they gave it me
– for an un-birthday present.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Alice said with a puzzled air.
Before their daughter could.
Even speak.
She would use her tiny hands.
To gesture that.
Her dad was flying.
Through the skies.
Her dad was flying.
Through the skies.
‘I’m not offended,’
said Humpty Dumpty.
‘I mean, what is an un-birthday present?’
‘A present given when
it isn’t your birthday, of course.’
Alice considered a little.
‘I like birthday presents best,’
she said at last.
“Our daughter knows.
That her dad is.
A pilot.
When she had a birthday.”
“When she had a birthday.
And her father ate.
A birthday cake.
Over a video call.”
“We explained to her.
That he couldn’t be with us.
As he was defending Ukraine.
From the ‘orcs’.”
‘You don’t know
what you’re talking about!’
cried Humpty Dumpty.
‘How many days are there in a year?’
‘Three hundred and sixty-five,’
said Alice.
‘And how many birthdays have you?’
‘One.’
The family now have.
A professional photo.
Taken of them.
Every six months.
“It’s very hard.
For me to say.
But I have to be.
Completely honest.”
“We never know.
If it will be our final.
Call or meeting,” she says.
On the brink of tears.
‘And if you take one from
three hundred and sixty-five,
what remains?’
‘Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.’
Humpty Dumpty
looked doubtful.
I’d rather see that
done on paper,’ he said.
She feels.
She has to be ready for.
“Everything, including.
The worst-case scenario”.
During the first year.
Of the war.
She would regularly hear about.
Casualties among friends.
“You call their wives.
And can’t find.
The words to say.
And you fear.”
“And you fear.
That one day.
You may find yourself.
In the same situation.”
‘And only one for
birthday presents, you know.
There’s glory for you!’
There’s glory for you!’
‘I don’t know what you mean
by “glory,”’ Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty
smiled contemptuously.
‘Elves’ are seeking.
Concrete guarantees.
Of protection by.
The US and Europe.
And an increased supply.
Of Western fighter jets.
Of Western fighter jets.
To deter ‘orcs’ aggression.
‘Of course you don’t
– till I tell you.
I meant “there’s a nice
knock-down argument for you!”’
‘But “glory” doesn’t mean
“a nice knock-down argument”’
Alice objected.
‘When I use a word,’
The country has received.
A number of US-made.
F-16s and.
French Mirage fighter jets.
But the country’s air force.
Still largely relies on.
Still largely relies on.
Old Soviet-era warplanes.
– hardly a match for.
More advanced.
‘Orcs’ aircraft.
‘Orcs’ aircraft.
Humpty Dumpty said
in rather a scornful tone,
‘it means just what I choose it
to mean – neither more nor less.’
‘The question is,’
said Alice, ‘whether
you can make words mean
so many different things.’
She is cautiously hoping.
For a ceasefire.
It might “freeze” the conflict.
At best, she says.
But finds it difficult.
To rely on.
As she doesn’t trust ‘Mordor’.
As she doesn’t trust ‘Mordor’.
‘The question is,’
said Humpty Dumpty,
‘which is to be master
– that’s all.’
Alice was too much puzzled
to say anything,
so after a minute
Humpty Dumpty began again.
‘The One’ wants an end.
‘The One’ wants an end.
To Western military aid.
To Kyiv and.
Intelligence-sharing.
With the ‘elves’.
As well as a halt.
To mobilisation in Ukraine.
‘They’ve a temper,
some of them
– particularly verbs,
they’re the proudest –
adjectives you can do
anything with, but not verbs
– however, I can manage
the whole lot of them!
Many experts say that.
His demands are simply.
A pretext to continue.
The war he launched.
In spite of.
Heavy ‘orcs’ casualties.
In spite of.
Heavy ‘orcs’ casualties.
Impenetrability!
That’s what I say!’
‘Would you tell me, please,’
said Alice, ‘what that means?’
‘Now you talk like
a reasonable child,’
said Humpty Dumpty,
looking very much pleased.
There are also fears.
There are also fears.
That the US President.
– who has publicly stated.
That ending the war is.
One of his top priorities –
Could be preparing.
Could be preparing.
A behind-the-scenes deal.
With ‘Mordor’.
Which would force Ukraine.
To accept painful concessions.
‘I meant by “impenetrability”
that we’ve had enough of that subject,
and it would be just as well
if you’d mention
what you mean to do next,
as I suppose
you don’t mean to stop here
all the rest of your life.’
Even after a ceasefire.
She will still.
Be waiting for calls.
And rare meetings.
As the ‘elves’ air force.
Will have to stay alert.
Will have to stay alert.
For a long time.
‘That’s a great deal
to make one word mean,’
Alice said
in a thoughtful tone.
‘When I make a word do
a lot of work like that,’
said Humpty Dumpty,
‘I always pay it extra.’
And while there may be.
Peace in Ukraine.
She wonders if her husband.
Will ever be at peace again.
She says he.
Who has been deeply.
Affected by the fighting.
On the front line.
Has a “patriotic soul”.
And will continue.
Serving even.
After the war.
‘Oh!’ said Alice.
She was too much puzzled
to make any other remark.
‘Ah, you should see ‘em come round me
of a Saturday night,’
Humpty Dumpty went on, wagging
his head gravely from side to side:
‘for to get their wages, you know.’
She feels it is important.
For him to not feel.
The casualties were.
In vain.
And remains hopeful.
That the ‘orcs’-held parts.
Of Kherson, Zaporizhzhia.
Donetsk and Luhansk.
Will one day.
Be returned.
Will one day.
Be returned.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing.
The priority for her.
Now is to reassure.
Her husband and.
Offer him optimism.
She dreams of.
A future where.
Her young family can finally.
Start to rebuild their life.
In a home of their own.
In their own country.
“My husband needs to know.
That we are always waiting for him.”
change places;
and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice,
which is the thief?
*Because I read “’My husband is a fighter pilot in Ukraine. Here’s how I really feel about a ceasefire’” by Zhanna Bezpiatchuk on 23 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 Maria, Ivan and Yaroslava, led by ‘KING LEAR’ written by William Shakespeare and ‘THROUGH the LOOKING-GLASS’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Ukraine fighter pilot’s wife’s hopes and fears ahead of ceasefire deal
