Ukraine was a beautiful place, I was told.The rolling fields of green, the flat
squares of wheat.Small farms clustered along dirt roads where children played.Now
filled with the lingering stench of death.The farms once overflowing with hard work
and laughter now sit silent.
I'm speaking softly to myself so my thoughts will be heard by someone.I'm alone
and dying of starvation.Yesterday I turned nine years old, there was no
celebration.Tomorrow when the glorious sun slowly rises and floods the empty
fields with light, I'll be dead.The cold hearted Russian soldiers came with anger and
frustration and took everything.My village, once a moving breathing community has
been slowly starved to death, without remorse.
This night seems colder than most, my mind keeps floating in and out of purpose,
I've found none.All have died and I'm the last of my family
Yesterday when the sun was setting I heard scratches and whispers at the front
door,asking for food, I had none.Within hours the sound stopped as they died
laying upon the cold wooden planks of night.
No one is coming and the pain has stopped.I'm tired and going to quietly drift into
a deep sleep, foreverThey say I am a pretty girl, but I'll never know
Tomorrow the Russians will sweep through and burn our village.No one will ever
know we were ever here.They'll be an emptiness where there was life.
Death is welcome.These rolling fields will be filled now with the ghosts of
innocence searching for a place lost in the ashes of time.
Contest..Genocide ..Speak for the Lost