“When will I finally get used to the fact that explosions are normal? And when did the explosions become ‘normal’?” Not only the windows but also the mattress bed on the ground in the corridor shake from the noise wave. So, we’ve been “sleeping” for almost three weeks. The longest three weeks of my life…
And my heart shudders.
It’s 5 am. It was the same on February 24, when it all began. But this was the morning of March 15. Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I don’t want to get used to it!”
I had tried to fall asleep. Light began to make its way into the room, despite the fact that the windows were covered with ten blankets so that the glass would not shatter in the event of a loud explosion.
Two hours later I was by a charred house. Before I had woken up it had been white.
Thank God that no-one was home. The family had left as soon as the war broke out. No-one died. No-one but the house.
I tried to imagine what it was like before. There was probably a cozy table on the terrace with chairs, of which only black iron rods now remained.
Curtains probably hung on the windows. But there are no more windows.
Neighbors managed to put out the fire before rescuers arrived. Water, wet clothes, earth…
Only the first floor was burned out. On the second floor two small pink bright and, at the same time, sad and abandoned beds remained.
I wanted to touch these abandoned things. Feel their atmosphere. But I couldn’t. It’s so scary to look at a charred sofa and imagine that children were playing on it a month ago. And they had had fun where the four-meter pit now is outside.
The only thing I dared to do was touch the remnant of the Russian cruise missile in the yard. An unwanted, obscene, deadly spear hurled at us by cowardly Doctor Death himself in the Kremlin.
Firing rockets off indiscriminately at distant civilian targets – that’s the Russian way of conducting their murderous diplomacy of give in or we’ll pulverize you into submission. Deadly rockets too have wings!
On the way back we drove again past dozens of checkpoints. Our friendly guys checked our documents, smiled and wished us peace.
We drove in silence. A grey curtain of smoke rose over Kyiv.
Remains of the Russian rocket that destroyed housing in Kyiv on March 15.
Some count sheep to fall asleep. We count the burnt-out buildings, high-rises, village houses, and their windows in which the light will never fall again.
Sometimes our air defenses work. And sometimes they do not. Yesterday shells were able to break through in various parts of the capital. The result was that at least five people died. More ghost dwellings were created unfit for life.
Kyiv will never be the same again. The explosions are now heard continuously. The sirens sounded throughout most of the day.
This heightened sense of danger is probably why the mayor of Kyiv – a legendary boxer who could take on any Russian coward willing to show his face and put his fists up in a fair fight – has imposed a curfew from 8 pm on Tuesday, March 15 until 7 am on Thursday, March 17.
This means that I will have to spend the whole day at home today. Listening to the sounds of explosions.
No, I will not read books as I once did. I can’t in this murderous atmosphere. Nor watch movies – movies are now a thing of the past.
I won’t practice on my violin because the only music I can hear are the sirens.
I will pray that today the air defenses will do their work and knock out the missiles sent to kill and destroy us.
Will dream of Russia opening humanitarian corridors to all the cities where tens and sometimes hundreds of people die every day because of its inhuman cruelty.
I hope that the occupier will soon leave my land and I will finally be able to embrace those I love so much. That people will emerge from bomb shelters. And they will not be fired on.
Daryna Kolomiiets at the site of housing in Kyiv wrecked by a Russian rocket on March 15.
Today, I will believe in the bright future of my country under our blue and yellow flag. Where Donbas, Luhansk and Crimea are Ukraine. And where you don’t have to get used to explosions, because it’s not normal!
But this has already turned into a prayer. Sadly, even our gold-domed churches are targets for today’s Mongol hordes from the east destroying the civilization we know.
And I have to pray quietly at home, crying, cursing the war criminals, but not despairing…
You can read a shorter version of this article here, as published by the London Evening Standard on March 16.
