it! We've rules around warfare.
Very civilised!
We Are Feeling Their Pain
The last world war was taught to me at school as history.
I wasn't alive to see it.
I wasn't alive during the second world war.I wasn't there to feel the build up of tension.
I wasn't there to feel the tension around its causes.
...I wasn't alive then.
I wasn't alive to feel the dread, hurt and loss felt by those displaced by this war.
The hurt the people felt who saw their countries destroyed
the hurt the families felt over their slaughtered loved ones.
The irony of this world war was that this world war was another world war,
following the war known as 'the war to end all wars'.
This was yet another war in Europe.
We thought another world war involving Europe could never happen again.
We were wrong.
Now the shadow of war has darkened the edge Europe once more.
Horror amidst the 'bon-accord'
war in a time of co-operation and peace.
A war brought to us on our personal electronic devices.
War delivered to a screen in the very palm of our hands.
The internet bringing us endless rolling news
showing us sanitized footage of war on Europes edge.
Edited scenes of death and distruction
for us to switch on and off as we like.
The anguish of Ukrainians is live on our screens
live from bunkers
cowering people sheltering underground
mothers in tears trying to escape
fear writ large across their faces
telling their stories
clinging tightly to their children
telling us about their blackened lives,
behind their blacken faces,
wearing their blackened clothes.
I now know about Ukraine.
I know more than school had ever taught me.
I know the names of its cities.
I know its size and geography.
I know its main exports
what it produces and the names of its leaders.
I would recognize its president.
I can book holidays I have no intention taking,
connecting with people I'll never meet.
I can donate them money.
I can send my love and my support.
Sending them money with which they can help support the war within their ravaged communities.
This war,
a war they didn't want and don't deserve,
this war I am living.
We are living this war and we are feeling their pain.
Blood on His Hands
'City's on fire' scream the newspaper headlines,
'hell' with your toast and it's sharp marmalade.
Croissants and coffee and death and destruction,
stories of suffering; a nation afraid.
The wireless chirps about rampant inflation,
with programmes of fear depression and dread.
The hope that this year would rise like a beacon,
of light mid our darkness,
lay dead in its bed.
Defiant; besieged they stoically fight,
to the death; to the end; for Ukraine and its lands!
'til the bombing falls silent,
and the dust finally settles,
and Putin's the one,
with their blood on his hands.
Look Into Their Eyes
Look into their eyes.
The baby.
The baby's eyes are just full of love for their mother.
These eyes know they're loved and cared for.
Eyes that know their mother will feed them and keep them safe.
These eyes are oblivious.
Secure eyes.
The toddler.
The toddlers eyes know something's wrong.
Eyes that say my life has changed and things are different.
Eyes that show concern but eyes that do not have a full understanding.
These eyes are worried.
Frightened eyes.
The teenager.
The teenagers eyes know part of the story.
Their eyes are eyes that have worked out what's happening.
These are eyes that show that part of the burden has been put upon their shoulders.
These are eyes that have had to grow up very quickly,
perform to a level they've never performed to before.
These eyes now carry a load.
Responsible eyes.
The mother.
The mothers eyes are scared.
The mothers eyes are eyes that show the fear and know that this is war and just what war can mean.
These eyes show the full weight of responsibility.
These eyes know their partner has had to go away to fight and may not return.
These are eyes that show a deep concern,
and these eyes have a grievance.
These eyes show hate!
A deep hate towards one.
Hateful eyes.
Once - Now
Old man.
Loose change in a plastic bag,
coat turned against the cold.
Trip out to fuel the car.
Once just part of his day,
now a trip out.
Seventeen pounds and sixty one pence!
Once a weeks worth of his sweat,
now a splash of fuel for the car.
Walking stick in hand.
Once a 'hop, skip and a jump',
now a marathon of distance and planning.
Mask swinging from one ear.
Adjustments.
So many adjustments to make.
Once life was simple.
Now,
now so complicated!
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