On Orthodox Easter in Mariupol
We finished our jelly beans
red and yellow, purple, green,
the last bite of chocolate, unaware
that over in Mariupol
on this most holy day
sleepless mothers cradle children
on a steel factory floor.
Christ is Risen!
But in Mariupol people lie crushed,
the crossbeam too heavy,
cold factory chimneys rising cruelly
against the grey sky.
Nobody steps in from the crowd
to carry the cross.
There is no crowd
but circled tanks
in Mariupol.
Where is the Risen Christ
in Mariupol?
Outside the factory
mud is drying, small flowers
pushing up
between the cracks,
the birds returning, unaware
that inside people wait
in darkness,
the factory made for steel,
not people—
they sit
in vigil,
waiting.
Stunning poem! It reminds me of Easter 2002, which I spent in Oman while deployed for OEF. Our chapel service on Maundy Thursday was drowned out by the sounds of B-1 bomber afterburners as they launched for Afghanistan.
thank you so much for reading, Kimberly, and I am so happy you enjoyed! And what a memory to carry with you.