From the days before the attack.
The ‘orcs’ word “children” was.
Clearly painted on the lawn.
In front of the theatre.
A 27-year-old locksmith.
Had also wandered.
Into the building.
That morning.
He had some friends there.
And went to look for them.
He was near the main entrance.
When the explosion hit.
He ran with others.
Into a basement.
And, 10 minutes later.
Heard the building was on fire.
And emerged.
To a scene of chaos.
“Terrible things were happening.”
He saw plenty of people bleeding.
Some had open fracture wounds.
“One mother was trying.
To find her kids.
Under the rubble.”
“A five-year-old kid.
Was screaming:
‘I don’t want to die’.
It was heartbreaking.”
He also said he saw.
Many people.
Coming out of the building.
Something that she saw as well.
A 27-year-old teacher.
Had been living in.
The theatre for 10 days.
With her two dogs.
Having fled her ninth-floor apartment.
They camped next to the stage.
In an auditorium.
Near the back of the building.
As the port city.
Of Mariupol.
Was being razed to rubble.
By ‘orcs’ bombs.
Hundreds of civilians.
Mostly women and children.
Went to hide in a theatre.
Near the waterfront.
That Wednesday, a bomb hit.
And within seconds.
The building had been split in two.
And left in ruins.
From the days before the attack.
The ‘orcs’ word “children” was.
Clearly painted on the lawn.
In front of the theatre.
All morning.
‘Orcs’ planes had been.
Circling the skies.
Above the city.
That morning.
She had got some fish scraps.
From an outdoor field kitchen.
To feed her dogs, but then.
She realized.
They had not drunk.
Any water.
So at about 10:00.
She tied her dogs to her luggage.
And made her way towards.
The main entrance where a queue.
Was forming for hot water.
And then the bomb fell.
There was the sound of a clap.
Thunderous and loud.
Then the sound of broken glass.
A man came from behind.
And pushed her to a wall.
Protecting her.
With his own body.
The blast was so loud that.
She felt intense pain.
In one of her ears, so intense.
She thought her eardrum must have split.
She only realised it had not.
Because she could hear.
The screams of people.
The screams were everywhere.
The force of the blast threw.
Another man.
Against a window.
He fell on the ground.
His face covered with.
Broken glass.
A woman tried to help him.
Who also had a wound on her head.
That 27-year-old teacher.
Had been volunteering.
At the ‘elves’ Red Cross.
In Mariupol.
So she gathered her senses.
Enough to shout over.
Telling the woman to stop.
She recalled.
“I said ‘Wait.
Don’t touch him.
I’ll bring my first aid kit.
And I’ll help you both’.”
But her kit was.
Inside the theatre.
And that part of the building.
Had collapsed.
“There was only rubble.”
It was impossible.
For her to get in.
“For two hours.”
“I couldn’t do.
Anything.
I just stayed there.
I was in shock.”
It is likely to have been.
Just one bomb that.
Fell on the theatre.
That morning.
From the accuracy of the strike.
It is very likely that.
The theatre was.
The chosen target.
From the days before the attack.
The ‘orcs’ word “children” was.
Clearly painted on the lawn.
In front of the theatre.
She remembers military planes.
“Making circles”.
Near the theatre.
That morning.
She had got used.
To their sound.
And “throwing bombs.
Somewhere else”.
So it was not unusual.
For her to spot.
military planes flying.
In the area.
She saw others.
Living in.
Crowded corridors.
On overground floors.
People would wander around the complex.
Its corridors and grounds.
And others would.
Come and go.
Her home inside the theatre.
For the days she was there.
Was in an auditorium hall.
With a chandelier.
And she nestled right next.
To the stage.
Because her dogs had drawn.
Some complaints.
She said there were about.
30 people in that hall.
And it is her belief that they must have.
All perished when the bomb hit.
After the blasts.
She was unable to.
Find her dogs and.
It was a moment of desperation:
“For me,” she said.
“My dogs were.
More important.
Than anything.”
“Some were with their luggage.
No-one knew what to do.
And the area was still.
Being shelled.”
Standing outside the theatre.
She too looked at the damage.
She realised it made no sense.
To look for another shelter.
From the days before the attack.
The ‘orcs’ word “children” was.
Clearly painted on the lawn.
In front of the theatre.
It had been.
A few stunned hours.
And she eventually left.
She tried to stop any car leaving the city.
“People were in panic.
No-one took me in their car.”
She started to walk.
Along the coast.
“I needed to get out.
Of the city.”
First, she got to the village.
of Pishchanka.
“I met a woman.
Who asked if.
I was OK.
I started to cry.”
She was offered tea and food.
And invited to spend the night.
The next morning, she kept walking.
Until she reached Melekyne.
A curfew meant.
She had to stop at 20:00.
A day later.
She walked to Yalta.
The following one.
To Berdyansk.
“I walked.
All that time.”
From the days before the attack.
The ‘orcs’ word “children” was.
Clearly painted on the lawn.
In front of the theatre.
When she left her flat.
For the theatre.
Her grandmother, who lived with her.
Refused to go.
“She just said:
‘It’s my apartment.
My home.
I’m going to die here’.”
She is still waiting.
To hear whether.
Her grandmother is alive.
Her grandmother is alive.
*Because I read “A bomb hit this theatre hiding hundreds – here’s how one woman survived” by Hugo Bachega & Orysia Khimiak on 22 March 2022, and also “Why are Ukrainians calling Russians ‘orcs’?” by James FitzGerald on 30 April 2022, on the BBC news.
So, I wrote this poem as a story of Vladyslav, and a story of Mariia and her grandmother.
Please read the original story on the BBC news:
A bomb hit this theatre hiding hundreds – here’s how one woman survived – BBC News
**My friend shows you this poem also on the Ukrainian website for their children and others!
Please join them!
