on the midway six-graders came in the bus
i guess it was mostly because they were noisy and funny, — still, they reminded me of my own class
i mostly don’t miss dead people, i only miss their presence
got to learn it at the start of the war, as my first lessons
i survived. i stayed alive
through the bombing that started at 3.45
i stayed alive
i stayed alive
i i i i i ———- stayed alive
to serve up what turned out to be fatal
the death is the painkillers
its the life itself that’s a battle
that leaves no winners —
because as long as you fight you are a sinner
and only the limbo will clean you, little soldier, imperfect man
i i i i stayed alive
and let me never forget about it (amen)
on the midway i realized, no one in the whole bus would understand (amen
amen
amen)
how i was chained and guilted to complete strangers
no one
not the toddlers, that slept on the mother’s arms,
not the absent -minded elders, not even teenagers
they were all fucking their heads
‘what do we do now that we’ve shared a bed?’
‘am i all the things that my mother has said?’
‘maybe that’s how it will be, a girl that’s forever sad’
‘should i tell her i love her or should i play pretend?’
‘i am not i am i am not hitting sent’
‘…that’s where it went’
so busy with sweet little nothingness
they wouldn’t notice, they wouldn’t sense
that there was a girl that survived 3.45
that it was such a big miracle
to even simply
breathe
to just be
alive
hainka, born in Ukraine, has been writing since childhood, crafting stories and poems that explore the depths of human emotion. She is known for her ability to delve deeply into themes of sadness, desperation, and resilience. She writes in both English and Ukrainian about the fragile intersections of war, peace, love, and loss.
Leave a comment