The Light Shines on in the Darkness: Ukrainian Writers in War


The summer reading, 2020. The Kyiv Literary Memorial House-Museum of Taras Shevchenko.
The summer reading, 2020. The Kyiv Literary Memorial House-Museum of Taras Shevchenko.
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LONDON (Bywire News) - On June 25, 2022, writers from Ukraine will share their stories and the harrowing experiences they faced — and still are facing — during the brutal war that the Russian Federation is waging in Ukraine. They will perform via Zoom at a reading Write From The Gut: Kyiv Method Writers, hosted by SF Creative Writing Institute and Method Writing. 

The founder of the institute, Alexandra Kostoulas, has been teaching the Writing Method for over ten years in San Francisco. Other faculty members, authors and professors from Harvard, Columbia University, UC Berkeley, and other well-known schools, are known for their community-oriented work. A poet herself, Alexandra Kostoulas dedicated a lot of time and energy to hosting poetry readings and literary events throughout her writing career — but this one is really special.

When one of her colleagues, Natalie Skorykova, had to flee Ukraine after the Russian Federation started a full-scale war on February 24, 2022, Alexandra reached out to see if the Institute could help. What she found out shook her to the core. Natalie’s students log in on Zoom from the front lines just to be with the class. One aspiring writer was killed in the war. He never finished his book. Other writers are now refugees scattered across the world. Natalie often goes late into the night until all of her students get a chance to read their work. 

“During the two and a half years of teaching the Method in Kyiv, not only I had [to deal] with all the nuances of a startup but also tried to survive in during the pandemic — and now war,” wrote Natalie. “I am grateful to Alexandra not only for this experience but also for her example. A real example of what can be done differently, what is needed differently.” Alexandra has been deeply moved by the suffering of the Ukrainian people at the hands of the Russian invaders throughout this war.

“The interview with the young Mariupol woman named Anastasia, who hunkered down in her apartment with her two-year-old inspired a poem,” said Alexandra, a mother of two young children. “In this poem, I was trying to recreate the Orthodox lamentations of Christ, sung in the church, in three tones, on Holy Friday at night. And then they say, “Kali Anastasi!” (Happy Resurrection.) It’s very symbolic. All the people in the church in the Greek Orthodox religion leave through, a contraption made of flowers, a symbol of Christ’s tomb. They pick it up, carry it around the church, light candles, go out and come back under it. I was influenced by that. I’m not super religious but I am Greek.”

Poetry comes from chants and prayer. Writers, like shamans, bring healing at the time of extreme suffering. The literary community is alive in Ukraine and art thrives—to the accompaniment of air sirens and explosions. Writers and artists around the world join the creative power to support this remarkable demonstration of the spirit.

 

Between Two Walls

on Orthodox Good Friday

 — For Anastasiya In the springtime

In the springtim

of another time

in another place

we welcome the daylight

and little shocks of green

growing amid sadness

on the one side

of the world

people are

going back to normal

after two years

of being inside

on the other side,

people are melting

snow once to drink,

again to shower,

a third time to flush the toilet

they will bring their babies

to the hallway

during bombardments

keeping them safe

is a matter of

hiding between two walls

chasing paper airplanes, making it a game

at the same time,

I am cleaning toxic mold

out of my life and apartment

after being inside

in between these walls

for two years

hunkering down from

covid and the fires

with a two-year-old and a newborn

now a two and four-year-old.

I feel sick for the first time

since the reopening

I can feel

the tension.

I sit on the grass

as my 2-year-old

sleeps in the stroller

in golden gate park

and drop down

my pen hits the page

we slight poets gather

sit together three of us

in a row

together a bony

resistance

we slight poets will try to sing from

whatever sliver of waxing crescent hope

we can lay beneath our fingers

from now to eternity these

shiny moons

of existence

as long as I am alive

I will sing into the

turns

I will start acting like a poet

So today is the day of death

tonight we say Kali Anastasi

Good Resurrection

and we wait for tomorrow

at midnight

for the light to shine in the darkness

in the last few years

we’ve all been beaten

down by life a bit

but somehow we emerge

truthful resilient

drowned by grief

like our fathers,

or the trauma

of our mothers

No matter how long you oppress

— evil one — 

you cannot

kill them

they will find a way to live

as Anastasiia has

to fly airplanes with her two-year-old

along the corridor between the safety of two walls

on Good Friday

as the comfortable morn and wait for resurrection

come to the church in heels and furs

kiss the icons

the holy one

is a Syrian refugee

gone mad

at the gas station by my house

beating the drum

the holy ones

are a mother and child in Ukraine

whose story almost went

untold

hunkering down

Resurrection

is hiding in the safety of two walls

with her two-year-old

chasing toy airplanes

sending her husband out for food

making shadow puppet theatre

in the rest between two bombs

I watch on from my country

that only understands simple things

good or evil

black or white

night and day

World War 1

and World War 2.

the truth is a little more obscure.

So let me explain:

we will divide up our losses and our wins

we will sing in fall out harmony

we will sing in the language of thought

we will sing for oppressed victim,

for the refugee, for the orphaned children

found in the street by a lady soldier who cleans their wounds

you will sing for the white man who gores the Black man

for a parking place with an iron pole and gets away with it.

I will sing for the Yazidi children

who came up to me on the road smiling in 2016.

You will sing for the one who kills another for food

for the one who slaughter and rapes the innocents

here, you sing here, and here

and I’ll sing there and there.

Lamentations for the dead

for the living

for

oppressor and oppressed

black and white

occupier and occupied

we will find a light in the

darkness

The world, the sudden vapors

the oracle only sees so far

my stomach is sick with the future

my palette tastes of ash

of a utopia long burned down

in Golgotha

mentally weak will always murder

the mentally strong

maggots falling out of the mouth of truth

the brainwashed say when interviewed:

they’re killing each other,

they put those bodies there,

they’re killing themselves they say

they’re faking it like they faked the Holocaust

its not that bad, it’s just a territory, a military exercise

a slight occupation, not a war,

he darts his eyes from side to side in their own war,

*

If you’re going to rape a woman, dear, while at war, the Russian

bride is intercepted as saying,

at least wear protection

How do these people celebrate their Easters?

Do they wear the stolen crosses of the Ukrainian women

while they pray?

or the ring of a dead Black man

who they killed for being the wrong color

too close to their driveway

and get away with it

do they dye their eggs on the proper day

do they know all the right songs?

evil is polite when it wants to be

evil is always hiding in the cracks of the shadow

evil is in the hearts of the smoldering eyes of the haters

evil pretends to be strong, to offer a momentary protection

evil feeds off your terror and relishes in it

They live like there’s no tomorrow, these people.

But do they have 2-year-olds who fly paper airplanes

in between two walls?

How do they dare watch what is going on

How do they not go mad

How do they wait for the end of the world

Are they charmed by tinkling bells

at the country club

do they make love to their wives

their mistresses in the dark

taking all the sundries for themselves

and leaving everyone else to starve

these people will dance on our graves if we let them

they will wear our stolen jewelry like animal skins

they will run away to unknown lands

They will steal our children

and teach them to hate us

to hate themselves

to forget their own names

they have eaten the great lie like arsenic

in their teacakes.

and they will only realize when its two late

and they’re paralyzed

in death

eternally still

unable to move.

*

and we slight poets

we will sing until

we run out of breath

we will sing until we

find each other

in the dark

we will sing until

we

burrow out a hollow in the bones

discarded around the streets

we will sing

until we find a place to hide in

we will sing

until we have sung to the end of breath

So much living

between

those two walls

there is a galaxy

between those two walls

like a galaxy

between two stars

because Resurrection and her two-year-old

live on

and

today

is a new day

and today

through

an ember

the

light

shines

on

in

the

darkness.

Amen.

 — — 

 Poetry comes from chants and prayer. Writers, like shamans, bring healing at the time of extreme suffering. The literary community is alive in Ukraine and art thrives—to the accompaniment of air sirens and explosions. Writers and artists around the world join the creative power to support this remarkable demonstration of the spirit.

(Writing by Zarina Zabrisky)

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