Sky Over Ukraine
The sky over Ukraine is torn into shreds—
Not by storm, but by war it thunders at night.
Fields that once shimmered with golden light
Now whisper the names of the fallen in sorrow.
No village bells ring out anymore,
Yet silence preserves the memory of the past.
A child draws peace with a trembling hand
While soldiers guard the shattered land.
The language of the heart still speaks with strength—
In lullabies, in windowpanes.
A mother sings through falling tears,
Her voice defies the siren’s wail.
And through the smoke, the sun still shines,
And hope, like wheat, will rise again.
For every home disfigured by war,
A thousand hearts beat twice as strong.