My Dear Friends:
33 years ago, Ukraine regained its independence. Today, courageous and resilient Ukrainians fight to protect the freedom they conquered, and safeguard the independence that they own by undeniable right.
I would like to share with you my poems below for reflections on this important day.
Independence
"Dear Chen-ou, I hope this email finds you well. Share with you my family photo, which was taken this glorious morning."
In the photo, my friend, his wife and two daughters, wrapping themselves in the flags of blue and yellow, stand with arms linked before a row of rusty Russian tanks on Liberation Square.
My friend used to be a Surrealist poet, known for his purposeful use of "obscure and unwieldy verbiage." He sent me the following poem at the end of his lengthy and furious email a week after the Russian invasion.
in smoky twilight
the head of I cut off
the roof of M falling through --
I paint poetry with screams,
the last phase of lyricism
His emails now are short and straight to the point, and often attached with photos to speak for his mood or state of mind, like the one he sent me today. Under his family photo, there is a caption that reads:
If Russia stops fighting, there will be no more war.
If Ukraine stops fighting, there will be no more us.
no man's land
between barbed wire fences
the kraa-kraa-kraa
of ravens scratching
at the soldiers' hearts
Ribbons, 19:3, Fall 2023
FYI: "Independence," was nominated by the Tanka Society of America for the Pushcart Press Competition.
And Ls 4&5 of the first tanka allude to the following remark:
Miles away from poetry, we still participate in it by that sudden need to scream—the last stage of lyricism.
-- Romanian philosopher and essayist Emil Cioran, whose work has been known for its pervasive philosophical pessimism, style, and aphorisms
Striving to live
Sunflowers deepen into the soil.
more war news ...
weeding the flower bed
I don't feel deserving
of this small plot of earth,
an Eden of sorts
Will these sunflowers flourish in this place I've claimed as my “own?”
Ribbons, 18:3, Fall 2022
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