It’s 20 minutes after 8 in the evening
And everyone is readying themselves
For another wretched night of fragile safety.
Air raid sirens bellow throughout Kiev and Kharkiv and all over Ukraine
As the ceaseless roar of rockets and missiles
Dart throughout the merciless winter night.
The huddled masses of the poor, desperate townsfolk
Seek any form of rudimentary shelter they can find
Deep within basements and car parks and subway stations,
Any place where they can hide from the relentless
Artillery and mortar and gunfire up above their heads.
Men, women, children, and their pets gather round
In whatever tight confines they can sleep and distract themselves with
Keeping a brave face and a smidgen of hope in their hearts and minds
As they hope for whatever sliver of mercy can be found
Within the hearts of the invading hordes surrounding them.
Their amateur but valiant defenders and saviors stand watch
Aiming their rifles and grenades and anti-aircraft guns on the marauders
Most of whom used to be friends and family
Now being forced to shed blood and battle
Brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor
All for the rabid depredations and the archaic fantasies
Of Tsar Vladimir and his sycophantic criminal court,
So endless is their rapacity and fear over his designs
That defy all rational logic as to be blindingly suicidal
That he might just bring the planet down with him.
Every generation, every belief, every identity all unite in one burning drive
To save their motherland, their lives, and their futures
With some help from allies and strangers alike throughout the world
To stop the scheming designs of a bitter old man
Who could never live with the fact
That some legacies aren’t worth saving
And some traditions are worth pissing on.
