This weekend I was privileged, along with hundreds of others in three separate concerts, to hear a piece of music by Balmages, a composer who wrote a piece called “Kiev, 2022–A Prayer for Ukraine.” Based on the Ukraine National Anthem, it was performed beautifully by the Space Coast Symphony Orchestra, a group dear to my heart. My husband and I have been volunteers for this group for all fourteen seasons, and our grown children perform with the group regularly.
The piece, based on the Ukrainian National Anthem moved me to tears. For a while now, I have been researching and writing about Ukraine. I have submitted three pieces for publication in local juried anthologies. One is called “Daughters of Chernikiv”; another is “Easter Morning at Mariupol;” an d the third is “Hope Deferred.”
While I cannot publish them here (defies anthology rules until the books are published in the fall, if you email me, I can send you a copy for your private read only.
I am disappointed that the world is now, according to minimal press coverage, treating this massacre and annihilation of culture as a non-event. People are starving, killed outright, being transported behind the Russian border, and the country is being ravaged. Her crops rot because they cannot be shipped to countries. This is certainly contributing to worldwide famine. The economies of the world are affected, while Russia continues to avoid sanctions and is raking in billions of dollars in fuel sales.
This little foray of Putin’s armies to gain a water port, Russia’s longstanding need, was his original motivation. He has all but achieved that goal. But in its wake, he has devastated a proud culture, committed war crimes by his ruthless scorched earth policy, and massacred thousands of people. The Russians’ callous disregard for thousands of years of culture and achievement and calamitous disregard for lives of people, both his own and the Ukrainians has made horror shows seen by the whole world. Nations’ leaders have ignored their promises to help, and we show our impotence and disregard for the needs of millions of people affected by this conflict. Our huge stores of weapons are worthless without the will to use them.
We wear yellow and blue. We pray for the people of Ukraine. Composers write music; people hear the Ukrainian National anthem inside their heads. We watch as silent martyrs, unable to affect the changes the world needs. We plant sunflower seeds, as my grandchildren did, to honor Ukraine. But in the end, the world watches, held captive by images of ruined buildings, rotting bodies in the streets, and say, “there but by the grace of God, go I.” We go about our lives, chafing at the bit, while world leaders reveal their impotence.
We weep for Ukraine.
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