Voice of Ukraine

From Ira Kapitonova near Kyiv (Day 535):

Show us your steadfast love,
O Lord, and grant us your salvation.
Surely his salvation is near to those who fear him,
that glory may dwell in our land.
Yes, the Lord will give what is good,
and our land will yield its increase.
Psalm 85:7‭, ‬9‭, ‬12

“Mom, I don’t want to grow up. When I am a grown man, I would have to go and fight Russians at the frontline, and I don’t want that to happen.”
(Our 9-year-old son, who was born right after the occupation of Crimea as Russia was starting its aggression in the eastern regions of Ukraine)

“You don’t have to thank us. We are no heroes. We know why we are fighting. It is our land, and we felt called to defend it. Everyone does it in his own place, and we happen to be at the frontline.”
(From a Ukrainian soldier who is on a short leave from the frontline)

“They told us that all kids will go to one school. After a while, they said they had to choose a different school in a safer location. They promised a school bus to pick up kids from all the nearby towns. One day, they took the kids in the morning but never brought them back. They said they sent them to Crimea to improve their health. It’s a miracle we found them.”
(From a report from an unnamed woman currently living in the occupied part of the Kherson region)

“During the occupation, we rarely left home with our son, just for a short walk in the nearby park. We were afraid they would take him away. Our friend said she was in a park with her kid with a mental disability when she was approached by Russian soldiers who offered to lock him up in a mental institution to make the life of his parents easier. We feared they would do the same to our son because we had no medication, and his condition was worsening.”
(From a mother of a 17-year-old boy with a severe form of autism who survived occupation in Kherson)

“I used to speak Russian. I used to love Russian songs. Even in the trenches, I would listen to certain Russian songs and argue with fellow soldiers that those songs were okay. I did that until I heard the very same song in Russian captivity. Now, when I hear Russian songs, I immediately remember a Russian hand with a knife poking at my throat.”
(From a Ukrainian POW, recently released from Russian captivity)

“What are my hopes for the future of Ukrainian literature? I desperately wish for all Ukrainian writers and readers to be alive. I wish for our publishing houses and book warehouses to remain intact. I want everyone to be alive.”
(From a podcast with a Ukrainian writer currently serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine)

Those are pieces and fragments from the conversations I had or stories I read today. As the night comes and the house is quiet, these fragments resurface in my memory, trying to fit together and complete this puzzle, but our world has shattered into a myriad of pieces, and many of them are still missing.