If a weird thought about reconciliation ever comes to my mind…
…I will recall…
…my feverish child sleeping in a cold basement…
…windows clanging because of explosions and me hugging my son — the only protection I could have given to him at that moment…
…me passing the checkpoint while leaving Sofia. A guy from Territorial Defence soothing me, “Please, don’t cry, go, take your kids out of here…” Those guys — strong, brave, smiling and so handsome — at every checkpoint. Someone’s sons, fathers, husbands…
…planes above the road, planes above the house, helicopters above the house, military vehicles and tanks on the roads, anti-tank hedgehogs, sandbags, concrete blocks everywhere, everywhere, everywhere…
…holes in the neighbouring buildings, holes on the roads and an immense black hole in my soul that will never be mended…
…black smoke outside the windows, thunder of cannonade, white smoke on the street, fire on the road you have to drive through, darkness in the flat, darkness in the entire neighbourhood because of blackout, and darkness, darkness, darkness…
…rosary with the family sitting on the stairs because there are two walls to protect them… husband who is not at home during the night… bomb shelter at school… so stupid and absurd — schools must be filled with laughter and noise!… son winning the contest with a song about the war…
the most dreadful of all… the words of the child, “Mom, I’m scared…”
All this is my personal experience. But that is nothing compared to what others went through. People from Kharkiv, Mariupol, Irpin…
If I ever want to reconcile with the devil who rapes and kills children just for fun, I will remember that my child and I are very lucky to be alive. Yes, I am all right. But not everyone is as lucky as I am.
And if I want to survive, I have to keep that in my mind.
And never tolerate it.
You cannot make a deal with the devil. No.
You drive him out.
If a weird thought about reconciliation ever comes to my mind, I will recall how after driving on the liberated route from Kyiv towards Zhytomyr I finally stepped out of the car — and for the first time during the war I lost control over myself. I was just crying, saying over and over again, “They are so young, God, they’re just so young…” I’ll recall my son stroking my shoulders and my husband just being silent… Small villages and towns near Kyiv that protected my house from the horde, protected me from being raped, protected my son from being…
I still cry for them. I will be crying all my life, even after they will have recovered and become even prettier and happier.
And until I’ll remember it, I will live.
I will live to remember it.
There will be no deal.
Never.
Ukrainian Text by Tetiana Vasytska, translated into English by Ukrainianvancouver team — Jul 7, 2022
Komentarze