In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away—
For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.
Like the majority of ‘elves’.
On 24 February.
2022 he, now 37, was.
“Confused, and scared”.
Some ran towards.
The borders;
Others, to.
The enlistment offices.
“I froze.
Trying to master my fear.”
Says a publishing graduate.
And former NGO worker.
“I am not a military man.
I have never seen.
Myself like that.
And I did not understand.”
“How ordinary people.
Could stand in the way.
Of such a powerful enemy.
Like ‘Mordor’.”
“It’s a Snark!” was the sound that first came to their ears,
And seemed almost too good to be true.
Then followed a torrent of laughter and cheers:
Then the ominous words “It’s a Boo—”
But the next month.
He – who loved.
Role-playing board games.
And wrote fiction –
But the next month.
He joined the army.
As a soldier.
He says.
“You are constantly.
In a small room.
In your head.”
In your head.”
“The space of which.
Is getting smaller.
Every time.”
Every time.”
“Outside the window.
Others are living…”
“Outside the window.
Others are living…”
“While there is no handle.
On the door.
On your side.
To get out.”
Then, silence. Some fancied they heard in the air
A weary and wandering sigh
That sounded like “-jum!” but the others declare
It was only a breeze that went by.
The war has jolted him.
“Before, it was important.
For me to help others.
Find their way.”
“To become strong.
To become self-confident.
Now I understand.”
Now I understand.”
“That the technique.
Of positive thinking.
Does not save you.
From armed thugs.”
They hunted till darkness came on, but they found
Not a button, or feather, or mark,
By which they could tell that they stood on the ground
Where the Baker had met with the Snark.
Getting rid of them.
Is a way of helping.
Not with words.
But deeds.
“You can’t save everyone.
“You can’t save everyone.
But even your unsuccessful.
Attempts will matter.”
In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away—
For the Snark was a Boojum, you see.
*Because I read “Civilians to soldiers: how four years of war has changed ordinary Ukrainians” by Laura Gozzi on 21 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 Oleh, led by ‘The Hunting of the Snark’ written by Lewis Carroll, you know.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
Civilians to soldiers: how four years of war has changed ordinary Ukrainians
