From: Ira Kapitonova in Kyiv (Day 626):
Vindicate me, O Lord, for I have walked in my integrity, and I have trusted in the Lord without wavering.
Psalm 26:1
Saturday morning. Most people are trying to catch up on their sleep or leisurely enjoy a day off. Suddenly, there is a blast! Then another one! What’s going on? There was no air raid warning!
We haven’t had explosions in Kyiv for two months, so it’s not like we forgot what they are like, but everyone was shaken because they came without the air raid warning. The sirens did come in a couple of minutes, but we all had our flashbacks of February 24, 2022.
Thankfully, our air defense intercepted the ballistic missiles aimed at Kyiv, and they fell in a field, not causing much damage. In a couple of hours, another air raid warning came for all of Ukraine and lasted for over three hours. I suppose the missile terror season is officially open.
Today is also unusual for me. I left Ukraine for the first time since the full-scale invasion. I’ll be away for a few days, attending a teacher training. While on a train and heading west, I saw a beautiful poem about home by Liudmyla Gorova, and it spoke to my heart. I’m leaving home for a little while, but the pain of not having a place to return to is too familiar for many of our people. However, we trust that one day, all Ukrainians will be back home.
Below is my loose translation of this poem:
I have received a package from my home,
My old cat’s whiskers, potted plants from kitchen.
My home was crying, feeling all alone.
Don’t cry, my home. I’ll see you in Kherson.
It cried because it’s buried in the weeds,
The paint has fainted, and the fence’s collapsing,
It said it’s waiting for the war to end and me.
Don’t cry, my home. I’ll see you in Donetsk.
It said it missed the child’s voice,
It cried in silence, and it was a torture,
It didn’t blame me, but it had no joy.
Don’t cry, my home. We’ll meet again in Bucha.
It cried because it is no more,
There are no walls, and only rain is drooping,
There is no day, no night. There is just war.
Don’t cry; I will return to Mariupol.
Don’t cry, my home. It’s our sweet November.
I will not trade you, won’t leave you alone.
Don’t cry, I’ll bring you back forever,
My dear home. Trust me, I’ll bring you home.
Voice of Ukraine 