Carol of the Bells

"Gay lucidity,

Not yet sunshine, in the air;

Tingling secrets hidden everywhere,

Each at watch for each;

Sap within the hillside beech,

Not a leaf to see."

~

Michael Field

Author's Note

To the readers of the future, this piece was written on 24th February, 2022, when the 2014 Russo-Ukrainian crisis escalated into an armed conflict. 

The word 'February' is believed to have its roots in the Roman rituals of Februalia. The Latin word 'Februa' refers to the act of purification, an ablution from the classic Roman debauchery. 

This February was far from an ablution, to say the least.

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A sickening, yellow light pervades the room; it is the end of darkness.

 In the glare of which, the tessellation hides its marks.

 A wilting shoe in the corner of the room. 

A dusted grape strewn on the floor. 

A pinch of dust in the dark. 

A child's hand mark on the wall. 

A broken heart's inscription on the wooden door. 

A muffled cry from somewhere close. 

Another. 

This time, louder. 

Guttural. 

Clearer.

A sudden shiver inside the bones. 

A nauseous rage within the brain.

A tremor that rises from within.

A text from someone.

Another.

Another.

Another.

      A frail bond disbanded.

A yellowing shade over perception.

Oh, I missed this.

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling-

Oh god, what's this!

And more.

And more.

And more.

And more.

No more, the eyes plead.

No more.

A quick scan around the room.

A dreadful wraith in the mirror.

A mass of decaying flesh.

A heart that cries through the eyes.

A tear that never does surmise.

A loss that is not put to words.

A time where ghosts roam on earth.

A text.

It doesn't matter.

A cold bath, to ease the chills.

"The Kyiv Quandary"

Oh yes, again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

A page is turned.

A Russian novel.

A cry of war.

Passing of peace.

A carol of bells.

A siren calls.

A city falls.

A village.

Another.

Another.

Another.

Another.

A fleeing mass.

    I turn the page of a Russian novel on the day of the attack. War and Peace, 1865.

A different war, a different time. Ukrainians and Russians fight the Napoleonic Wars in solidarity. 

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“I write because there are things in me that cannot die.”

― Sanober Khan