Connection comes in crisis
Entranced, I watch the explosions on TV
Streets I saw many years ago
Countless times in my first few years; once in my college years
Dead silent and ghost-like
While babies cry underneath them
Held by their fearful mothers
In an air-raid shelter, basement, metro station
Take your pick.
So many ways for humanity to disappear.
I lived around here, I was told
Too small to remember a thing
Impossible to think I will remember anything like this
Feeling no connection to this place till now,
With my Westernized life and organic food
Wish I had then because now—I’m glued to the screens
I feel connected to these people, their stories, their lives falling apart
I guess connection comes in crisis.
No longer am I a “Russian Jew from Ukraine”
(That never quite rolled off the tongue anyway)
I am a Ukrainian [Jew].
Simple, sweet, in solidarity.
I speak Russian, not Ukrainian
Does that make me a traitor?
The intertwined histories of these cultures excuses me, I hope.
My American friend from Ukraine wants to learn Ukrainian
I’d rather assassinate the aggressor.
My old friend moved from Donetsk to Crimea
He tells me “Russia must force peace with a special military operation.”
What do your friends think, he asks.
I am left speechless.
I am disturbed to understand the language spoken by both sides.
It somehow illogically implicates me in the conflict.
I used to feel confused by my compilation of identities
Russian-speaking Jewish ethnicity Ukrainian USSR-born American/immigrant
Now it’s crystal clear. (It has to be.)
I stand with Ukraine.
Слава Украине! (Glory to Ukraine. A Ukrainian national salute.)
And as the brave protestors chant fiercely in my mother tongue,
Нет Войне! (No to War!)
good stuff IMO.
Connection Comes in Crisis
by Yuliya Shteynberg
Connection comes in crisis Entranced, I watch the explosions on TV Streets I saw many years ago Countless times in my first few years; once in my college years Dead silent and ghost-like While babies cry underneath them Held by their fearful mothers In an air-raid shelter, basement, metro station Take your pick. So many ways for humanity to disappear. I lived around here, I was told Too small to remember a thing Impossible to think I will remember anything like this Feeling no connection to this place till now, With my Westernized life and organic food Wish I had then because now—I’m glued to the screens I feel connected to these people, their stories, their lives falling apart I guess connection comes in crisis. No longer am I a “Russian Jew from Ukraine” (That never quite rolled off the tongue anyway) I am a Ukrainian [Jew]. Simple, sweet, in solidarity. I speak Russian, not Ukrainian Does that make me a traitor? The intertwined histories of these cultures excuses me, I hope. My American friend from Ukraine wants to learn Ukrainian I’d rather assassinate the aggressor. My old friend moved from Donetsk to Crimea He tells me “Russia must force peace with a special military operation.” What do your friends think, he asks. I am left speechless. I am disturbed to understand the language spoken by both sides. It somehow illogically implicates me in the conflict. I used to feel confused by my compilation of identities Russian-speaking Jewish ethnicity Ukrainian USSR-born American/immigrant Now it’s crystal clear. (It has to be.) I stand with Ukraine. Слава Украине! (Glory to Ukraine. A Ukrainian national salute.) And as the brave protestors chant fiercely in my mother tongue, Нет Войне! (No to War!)