Stories from Ukraine

that are overlooked by the world and a new poem.

A mother with two sons celebrating the birthday of one of her kids in Kyiv underground during the Russian missile attack. Photo by Vlad Volodin.

Often, when I read the articles published by prominent Western media, I notice two things: information about Ukrainians presented in numbers, cold analyses, and negative opinions, while the stories about Russians are written in an entirely different tone that evokes emotions and sympathy. At the same time, when I read Ukrainian news channels and posts on social media, I see countless stories of courage, sacrifice, and love that never make the headlines in the West. It is completely hidden from people due to the biases of journalists and editors who think these stories are too simple compared to the alleged complexity of Russian souls. For some reason, the story of the Russian woman who sells newspapers in Russia is more important and touching than the stories of Ukrainian women who are fighting on the frontline or raising children under constant missile attacks. It seems as if the world views Ukrainians and Russians through a crooked mirror that distorts reality. It’s hard to find the words to describe the scale of injustice and biases that Ukrainians are subjected to.

I wish more people could read the stories that I see daily: the stories of friendship and bravery told by Ukrainian soldiers, the stories of hope and support told by their families, the stories of kindness and compassion told by thousands of fundraisers and local initiatives, the stories of joy, the stories of grief, the stories of love. However, when the world is too busy humanizing the abuser, it inevitably leads to overlooking the humanity of the victim.

I will finish with a poem I wrote this week.

***

I read the stories of Ukrainian women 
who lost their men in the war.
The words are filled with so much love,
it flows from the screen
and envelopes my heart 
like a huge warm wave 
and it stings 
like a swarm of wasps
and I cry.

I cannot imagine their pain,
but I feel it at the same time.

The women write about the last hugs 
they didn’t know were the last.
About plans that were not meant to be.
About children who will never see their dads.
About pity, that is the worst of all.
About days when they don’t want to live.
About days when they desperately want to live 
against all odds.

I read the stories of Ukrainian women 
who lost their men in the war.
They ask how to live 
when the love of your life 
is not alive anymore.

I don’t know what to say.

I press *heart*, 
turn off the phone,
and hug my husband as tight as I can.

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Warmly,

Darya

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Email: daryazorka@substack.com

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