~
You are
the river that runs
beneath this city.

You lend
the beautiful but empty
buildings a beating heart.

And the buildings were essential.

They were a part
of the lives unfolding
in their shadows.

Sometimes it
almost seems like
they are listening.

I'm sinking inside them.

Tell me a story
about an outgoing road,
the house where you grew up
near the Sea of Azov.

I think
I flew there once.

The birds
that perch inside my chest
sing loud, sing soft.

Maybe they
will sing again for us
tomorrow.
~

On my last day of solo travel
I made the split decision to take stairs down
A random, haphazard side street.
I sat down at a cocktail bar
All by myself.
The only patron in this basement.

I was greeted with a smile
Missing one tooth
In the dark room
Asked what liquors I preferred
There is no menu
I listed off what I had tried and what I wanted to
She would sip a bit of the drink
Pipette on my outstretched hand
So I could give my input
As we constructed the flavors together
Laughing, eagerly offering and accepting my
suggestions of what the drink needed
Childlike wonder, curiosity, and play.

We experimented with absinthe
And amaretto, cherry, lavender, banana, sake, gin
pickled *****, coconut *** and umami bitters
She made me my first tiramisu martini.
A total of 5 cocktails in 5 hours spent together.

Lightly
I asked her why she moved to Prague -
Darkly
She said the single word “war”
She had to leave Kyiv or risk dying there.
She said she is so broke that she buys cheaper shoes that don’t fit and pads them with paper towels but still gets blisters.
She lives in a one bedroom with her mother.
Men started groping her on the train as early as nine.
She sincerely wishes her uncle would die.
She has made no friends in this city since she moved a year ago.
She has gotten fired before for being unlikeable and standing up for herself.
She painted the cocktail bar walls sage green after hours for free because the manager could not afford hiring a painter and she genuinely likes this job.
She is a polyglot: knows French, German, Ukrainian, Russian and English.
She’s vegan but she tries the fish-based bitters and egg whites for work every night and likes their taste.
She has not been to a doctor in years because she cannot afford it.
She has overdue medical bills racking up interest she worries about.
She got fined once for having an expired train ticket - now she always checks the expiration when she rides and has a valid ticket.
She points out, in her embroidered dress and matching embroidered jacket, that there’s cigarette holes from the ash the wind blew that she doesn’t have time to mend.
She has a college degree and a virtual master’s degree.
She thinks she’s old at 31.
She doesn’t trust men anymore.
She thinks that she’ll never get married or have children, even though she really wanted to when she was a little girl.
She was eager to smoke a cigarette outside when I needed to use the restroom.
She never let my water glass get empty.
She doesn’t know how she’ll make ends meet next month.
She asserts that life is unfair but that these are the cards she’s been dealt and they’ve made her stronger.

She thanked me as I left and told me that the conversation we had made her evening better
It was the most freeing feeling she had felt in months.
Being able to share and lighten the load of what she has been carrying alone made her emotional.
She says typically tourists and locals won’t ask or listen.
She feels othered by both.

We agree with tears in our eyes that we don’t even know each other’s names:
Margarita
Maria
We laugh, our names are so similar.

Heroes wear all kinds of uniforms,
and call many places home,
but standing the line for Democracy
they are all just as tall and just as brave

Who was this man
who ventured to a distant land
to defend it from an invader
they are not his people
this was not his home
but he stood the line for Democracy
he stood the line proud and tall
and died

He was my Brother
He was my Father
He was my Friend
He was a good man
He stood the line for Democracy

Outraged by indifference,
On the streets, neighbors once friendly Now stand in opposing lines. Propaganda posters cover the walls, Spreading fear and dividing minds. Ukraine or Russia, Isreal or Palestine. Capitalism or communism the greediness and division funding all wars

In countries once united and with the hope of, now torn apart.  Hopes and dreams dashed, shattered like glass.  The future once bright, now a dark unknown.  How can we navigate our way into a peaceful world

Blue and yellow flags, now stained with blood. A nation once united, now torn asunder.  The echoes of shelling, ringing in their ears.  The land of golden wheat, now a barren wasteland.

So the streets are filled with chaos and fear,  And the violence rages on without cease. Bombs and bullets tear through the night,  and civilians cower in their homes, bereft of peace. The loss of life and suffering is great, And the scars of war run deep and true. The conflict rages on without end,  And hope seems hard to hold onto.

A home, once a dream of safety. Now a battlefield, a place of terror. The faces of loved ones, now distant memories. hearts, once full of hope. Now shattered and broken.

Amidst the chaos and despair, we search for a light. The occurring wars, the reasons to unite, for a glimmer of hope is a reason to go on.  So they cling onto the small moments of joy,  like the laughter of a child, or a flower in bloom. In the darkest of times, they try to find strength in the small things.

Though the scars of war may run deep, the world can still heal. We can still choose love, choose forgiveness.  We can choose to build a better tomorrow, Where peace reigns and hope abounds.  May we never forget the lessons of war, and may we always strive for a brighter future.

May we learn to forgive those who have wronged us,  and work to heal the divisions in our society.  May we reach out to those in need,  and work to create a more just and equitable world.  May we never lose sight of the beauty of life, as we hold fast to the belief that a better tomorrow is for us