Poetry ~ The Other Side of the Door ~ The War in Ukraine May 2023
The Other Side of the Door ~ The War in Ukraine May 2023
I
It is a cold and icy wind that blows across life's dying embers.
But there lies Peace this day.
The days distraught at last have passed.
All around me move,
I will rest me a while longer.
They will fetch me soon enough.
Never a dull moment, hey!
A streak across the sky.
Then another... and another still.
A heavenly portent?
Nay.
Kyiv will have it hard tonight.
Worry not. Our defences are sure.
We have certainty of purpose.
We will not be defeated.
II
We had no quarrel. And still not.
Yet when our lands are invaded,
our families raped and murdered,
when people are sniped in the street,
when men are tattoo-naked stripped,
when the youth,
the Cream of our Nation
are murdered and worse still,
there are things that even I cannot repeat,
I have locked them in behind the doors of my mind.
Our language is outlawed
Our children - thousands deported...
III
I will rest here a while longer.
The platoon works well.
Superb, in fact.
I trained them well.
Survival. Kill or be killed.
That is what a sour man's mind
in the Kremlin has descended us all headlong into.
I wonder.
I wonder if he will take the route of
of Stalin
that other monstrous tyrant,
the Archtitect of the Holodomyr infamy?
And that personification of an even greater evil
in the Berlin Bunker?
We can only hope.
IV
What? Pray?!
No. I’m not into praying these days,
at least not in the way you mean.
Ask me to pray to a god? Get real!
My eyes have seen and witnessed events beyond humanity.
You'll be asking me next to believe the fairy tales,
Harry Potter, Star Wars, Game of Thrones.
Middle Earth, Heaven, Hell!
Hell? Sure. It's damned well right here
where it’s always been.
My German friends have the perfect phrase...
die Holle auf Erden ~ hell on earth!
Sure - the Cosmos is perfect,
ordered and not a chance occurrence.
V
Hang on...
They come for me now. So I'll rest my eyes a moment.
Thanks for your company.
No, don’t let go my hand just yet.
You've really warmed me.
Have no fear. My body is cold but my soul is warm, ever-glowing.
Drifting... Drifting... Drifting
Hey, Sarge, here's Johann, damn it.
Nah! Gone. A sniper for sure.
Clean through his helmet, his temple.
No. Back's a mess. I'll cover him.
Okay, We'll collect him later.
God! Fuck this world. He's 19.
Training to be a Doctor. He's joined his dad and brother now.
Married last month.
Fuck! How do I tell his wife?
Corporal? Corporal! Dima. Діма!!
Did you hear me? Come on!
Snap out of it.
Sorry Sarge. I'm trying to get my
head round all of this.
I mean who will tell their mothers?
All these Zeds!
Don't worry.
They were once upon a time brothers-in-arms, in life.
We shared our languages.
We use the back channels, Дім, to get the information
to Russian families via social media.
Their People cannot rely upon their government.
They are fighting a lost cause.
It is a cold and icy wind that blows across life's dying embers.
The corporal moved on, detached, in his own world,
yet quietly and ruthlessly efficient.
Still in the sitting position,
The sergeant gently cleared Johann's breast pocket,
placing the photograph with reverence in the satchel,
sealing the envelope and marking its code to shroud.
Sleep well Johann.
Sleep well my boy.
You are the finest.
Written on the moment's spur
Saturday 27 May 2023
All Rights Reserved
© 2023 Kenneth Thomas Webb
Ken Webb is a writer and proofreader. His website, kennwebb.com, showcases his work as a writer, blogger and podcaster, resting on his successive careers as a police officer, progressing to a junior lawyer in succession and trusts as a Fellow of the Institute of Legal Executives, a retired officer with the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, and latterly, for three years, the owner and editor of two lifestyle magazines in Liverpool.
He also just handed over a successful two year chairmanship in Gloucestershire with Cheltenham Regency Probus.
Pandemic aside, he spends his time equally between his city, Liverpool, and the county of his birth, Gloucestershire.
In this fast-paced present age, proof-reading is essential. And this skill also occasionally leads to copy-editing writers’ manuscripts for submission to publishers and also student and post graduate dissertations.
