I do not want to write of war

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I do not want to write of war, of bombs falling and bodies lying in the rubble.

I do not want to read of missiles falling from the sky and shattered glass flying.

I do not want to know of death counts and how many wounded lie untended amidst the shelling that reigns over the land.

I do not want any of this in this world, but it is here, has been here for a very long time, a symbol of our inability to make peace without first killing off those whose peace we do not agree with.

I do not want any of this, just as I do not want to write about how I cannot stop reading of what is happening in Ukraine. Or how I cannot stop the tears that flow as I say a prayer for those sheltering underground desperately trying to protect the ones they love from the destruction happening above them. Or those walking the long road away from war into an uncertain future.

I do not want any of this.

Just as I do not want to hear of how a man who owns a Russian grocery store in our city has been threatened by his neighbours. How he now fears for his safety and the safety of his family.

He came to this country for freedom. Not to be persecuted for the wrong-doings of the leaders he ran away from in search of a place to call home.

My heart feels so heavy. My mind restless. My body weary.

I breathe deep into my body, deep into my belly. I breathe deeply in the hopes that each breath will bring me calm.

Tears flow.

Let them flow, my wise inner guide whispers. In flowing, they create space for calm to prevail.

I do not want to read the news. I do not want to witness the destruction.

But this is happening to my fellow human beings on this planet. Just as it was happening to innocents in Syria and Rwanda and Iraq and so many other places and times throughout our human journey on this planet.

And if I have learned anything through our tragic history of war, it is that turning a blind eye to what is happening does nothing but make me blind to the suffering of others.

Pretending it isn’t happening keeps me stuck in believing there’s nothing I can do.

I am not that powerless.

I have agency. I have a voice. Fingers. Resources. And, while I cannot stop the guns blazing, I can stop staying silent, trapped in my fears and trepidations.

I can stand up and add my voice, donate resources to help those who are fleeing or hiding from war, know, they are not alone.

12 thoughts on “I do not want to write of war”

  1. Oh how I agree with you ma chérie! Unfortunately history has a very, very nasty habit of repeating itself, especially in that part of the world that has our attention glued to every credible news source. 1500+ years of Slavic history has proven this over and over again. When a narcissistic, megalomaniac lording over a kleptocracy holds the reins of power, it will take more than the will and strength of the people who he is attempting to suborn to bring him to his knees. It is incredible how so many countries have rallied behind and in support of Ukraine.
    Let us hope that the might of democratic countries, coupled with the resilience of the Ukrainian people, will bring this unwarranted conflict to a timely and positive conclusion in favour of a free and democratic Ukraine. Alas, I fear the 1500+ years of history may weigh in heavily on the outcome. Yet, there is a glimmer of hope, a spark that just might ignite the glowing embers into an everlasting flame of democracy. As a lifelong student of Slavic Studies, this conflagration is too fragile to predict.

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  3. Beautiful post, Louise. Every word resonated with me. I have been writing too on the Ukraine war because its the only way that I can retain my sanity. Watching the news or reading the papers brings tears to my eyes too and though it has happened in other countries, I hadn’t expected it in Ukraine. I believed Russia wouldn’t attack. But they did. All we can do now is hope better sense prevails and the war ends.

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  4. My heart feels so heavy. My mind restless. My body weary.

    I have been feeling it all, the sickness of it all. And worse I am feeling sick of my aversion to writing about it, thinking about it, saying anything about it, just because I don’t want any of it. I feel sick within while I continue to write my usual poetry and sulk in my own glory. Thank you for giving words that help me acknowledge.

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  6. I have to agree with all that you’ve written. I feel conflicted about posting anything – just like last summer with the residential school news. It’s so difficult to carry on a “normal” life in the space and volume of all this pain and suffering. Then if you had in personal pain, grief, health issues etc sometimes the whole thing can seem so overwhelming and insurmountable. How did I know this when I chose HOPE as my word for the year. Bernie

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