Fragments of a Nightmare

Prelude

Let’s say our vows on the railway tracks
while the train’s approaching,
merciless and heavy.

We’ll escape just in time,
after shouting:
“With no regard for any kind of god,
I’ll be with you long enough
and, if I can, forever.”

(13.02.2022)

Day 14

Day fourteen.
The sun is shining as if the war is over,
but the air raid sirens keep screaming it’s not.

I’m ten years older
than I was two weeks ago,
and every death leaves a scar on my hope.

(9.03.2022)

Day 58

On day fifty-eight, my hope is so scarred
I can’t recognize it.
Nothing can outweigh cargo 200,
and nothing can distract from my own burning leg.

Did you really expect I’d be joking and laughing,
babbling about something light,
just like before?
There is no “before”, only the pain of today.

There is no way you can outwait this.

I know you are fragile,
but I’m fragile too.
I cannot take it, but then I just do.

I’m bleeding before your eyes,
and you find it extremely annoying.

(22.04.2022)

I Have a Teaspoon From Home

I have a teaspoon from home,
a head on my shoulders,
a voice,
and that is all.

(12.05.2022)

Day 119

Even this body is not truly mine.
It’s trying to self-destruct
a few times per day.

I’m not ok.
I’ll never be ok.

I will remain on that floor
in the hallway,
two walls on each side,
trembling,
cursing,
listening to the explosions.

(22.06.2022)

It hurts

I wish those kids would come to the criminals
in their sleep.
The kids with torn-away hands,
legs,
with one eye.
They come to me instead.
I try to hug them, but the little ones say:
“Don’t.
It hurts.”

(21.08.2022)

Note to self

Don’t worry, it will get worse:
the weather,
the pain in your chest,
the war.

Don’t get all worked up too soon,
because no one will save you.
They’re busy.
No one will save you.

(20.11.2022)