For the few who know me well, you know that I occasionally write poetic things that fall into no sense of structure. I’m not huge on sharing, but someone close to me wants me to show people more of what I write. I wrote a little something in light of the events that have befallen Ukraine. So here it is:
Feb 24th, 2022
Into the night, where crisis wakes and nightmares stir.
Cloth with holes spilling red ink, staining streets and floors; smeared on walls and doors.
Charred cement in broken pieces. Blackened marks in empty silhouettes.
Shiny leather and heavy metals. Smells so foreign amongst dull fabric vegetation.
In silence, the heavy drum of synchronized footsteps.
Hurried whispers behind shallow walls. Once a game to hide. Now so real.
Biding time to smother voices of the desperate in desperation.
But there will not be silence.
To look upon the rain of lead and shooting stars of the inferno in it’s metal shell with defiance and thirst for hope.
To say, “I am David. Look me in the eyes, Goliath.”
Ukraine, the wish of the world for a Battle of The Alamo with an alternate ending.
– Celia Mitchell
Celia Mitchell Writes 