Voice of Ukraine

From: Maia Mikhaluk (740th day): Our hearts break anew every day. Missiles and drones reap their horrible “harvest” of death, but they also pierce the hearts of those who go on living.

One ruzzian drone during the night attack on Odesa ended lives of 5 children: Timothy (4 months), Lisa (8 months), Mark (3 years), Zlata (8 years), Serhyi (9 years). This is just one strike, one night, one drone. How many missiles and drones were shot at buildings full of sleeping families over the past 740 days?! The monstrous evil has no limits, it won’t stop. It has to be stopped – by force. Those who have the means to help stop these crimes against humanity and yet withhold the help are participating in the crime, enabling evil.

Lesya Litvynova wrote “Lullaby of the War”. It reads like every Ukrainian mother’s heart cry. I will post here a translation:

“Sleep, my little girl, sleep. We will cover ourselves with a blanket and wrap ourselves in it like a cocoon. It will shut us out of war for a while. Come to me, my dear. I’ll hug you tight, very tight. As long as I’m around, nothing will happen. Do not be afraid. Don’t be afraid of anything. It’s the wind whistling outside the window. Just the wind. Do you want me to tell you a fairy tale?

We will cling to each other in the dark. Feel the warmth and breath on the skin. With every cell. Until we dissolve into another. The war will recede for a short time. Because it cannot be true when there is silence and darkness around. When your hand is on my shoulder and half-sleepy breathing in my ear. When I tell you fairy tales in a whisper. Tales about a distant country, where on the shore of the blue-blue sea you can sit on warm stones and listen to the rustle of waves.

The sea, my dear, is like a lake, only much bigger. There is salt water and colorful fish. You and I will definitely see it after the war. I will teach you to dive into the waves and not be afraid to open your eyes underwater. Sleep, my little one, sleep. May you dream of the sea.

In the meantime, the two of us will dream of the rustling of waves and the cries of seagulls. And a castle on a rock above the sea. Where the king dad, queen mom and their little princess live. Papa-King will protect his kingdom from evil wizards. And, of course, he will win and return home safe and sound. And the queen mother will bake the most delicious strawberry pancakes in the world and tell fairy tales to the little princess. And then a dragon will fly to them. No, not evil, but good. And will fly the little princess across the sky. Just like on a plane.
An airplane, dear, is such a big machine that can fly. You have never seen them. Good thing we didn’t see it. Because in our sky they bring only death. Just like evil dragons. They are burning the cities where our friends are now fighting them. But there are other planes. They take people to distant countries. They look like good dragons from fairy tales. We will fly with you on the plane. And you will see how the earth under you will become small, small. And how the clouds will float under you. Big and fluffy. Sleep, my dear, sleep.

And then the dragon will fly back, and the little princess will walk around the town at night with mom and dad. Street lamps and shop windows of small cafes will be lit. And their reflections will lie on the cobblestones. Like sunny bunnies. Only at night. And there will be people around. Many people. Yes, baby, at night. There will be no curfew. You can walk there until the morning. And you can also walk in the forest there. Can you imagine? Just walk. And not be afraid of mines. Do you remember when your older sister told you that you shouldn’t go to the forest because landmines might live there? You and I will also someday walk through the forest, in which animals live, not landmines. Deer with big horns and timid hares. And there will be green moss under your feet. And you can lie on it and look up at the tree branches and the sky. Sleep, my baby.

…The phone next to the bed vibrates.

• Mom, is it a warning of missiles attack?
• This is an air raid. But not for us. Today is not ours. Forgive me, little one, that you know more about missiles than about the sea and airplanes. I am so sorry.

Sleep, my dear. The air raid is not for us. It’s in another city. I’m with you. Nothing can happen to you as long as your mother hugs you. Sleep.

… In the morning, rescuers will pull out the children who did not survive the night from under the rubble. Babies sleeping in the cocoon of a warm blanket next to their mother. And fell asleep on the last night on this earth under a soft whisper in the ear: “Don’t be afraid of anything. As long as mom is around, nothing will happen to you.”