It’s terrifying to write about it. Rhyming these words feels like

walking, again and again, over the scorching hot embers.

Taking her hand and holding it, holding it.

Being killed together with them, being captured

together with them, being the one who keeps searching.

Being in the basement, in the trenches, in the grave, under the siege.

Being a doctor without supplies in the hospital.

Being a mother whose son is at Azovstal.

Being buried alive under the rubble.

No words are enough to write it.

No heart is enough to write it.

Only hatred lets you do it.

Bad poems come out about it.

Horrible poems. And they get even worse.

Author — Oksana Stomina, poet, writer

Translator — Hanna Leliv

Illustrator — Victoria Boyko

Editor — Maryna Korchaka

Program Directors — Julia Ovcharenko, Demyan Om




Summer is all about sunny weather, the sea, sweet cherries, and watermelons. At least, for me, a girl from Mariupol strolling with a shopping bag to Stryiskyi market in Lviv.