Spring Is Ending, Summer Will Come.

It is snowing now. Is this what spring looks like?

How is it that spring reminds me of this war which we now experience?

Spring is oft harsh, and yet - it never lasts forever.

The summer comes next, and the sultry sun cordially tucks the cold clouds away.

And as the tired soil laps up the gleaming sun beams,

The weary sunflower lifts its head, rejuvenated with a fresh new hope.

And besides it, the wonderful orchid sings its jubilant song -

And for a moment, all is well with the world.

But not for now.

Now, the hunting hawks of war cast their ominous shadows to the floor below.

For now, injured and betrayed, our homes appear as contorted wrecks of lumber and steel.

The harsh dissonant cacophony of shelling wails bitterly nearby,

and the low staccato rumble of distant gunfire advances aggressively.

Can you hear the fierce clattering and hisses of the merciless shrapnel as it falls on all alike?

Above, the eerie screams of grim rocket motors shatter the air,

Even as the hum of the helicopter rotors bounces off the walls.

All the while, I hold my dark rifle coldly in my hand.

And yet, somehow, I know – I know that the spring will end, that the summer will come.

I know that the Clouds will go, the flowers bloom, and that the war will end.

And because I know, my heart stirs a little within, and it grows warm -

Just as each Ukrainian’s will once the war is truly won.

Wish me courage now, and steadfast resolve.

For I wish to serve my countrymen well, even as they have served me.