Lullaby for Mariupol

Interior of the Mariupol Theater after bombing in April 2022.I remember the chilly winter carnivals at Drama Theater, and the new green and yellow maternity hospital. Neighborhood babushkas gossip among the falling leaves. Flower shops burst with color for Women’s Day. Laughing children skip through water fountains.

Then, suddenly, somebody liberated us.

Bombs hit our homes, our parks, our schools. In a matter of days, we returned to medieval life: bitter cold, dehydration, starvation, and the stench of death. Corpses lie everywhere. I hear ghostly shrieking off in the distance. There is no way out of this hell, nowhere to turn, nobody to help.

Then, mercifully, stillness.

Goodnight, Mariupol.

Stephen Connacher lived in southeast Ukraine and loves to keep it short and sweet.

Photo Credit: manhhai

2 Responses to “Lullaby for Mariupol”

  1. Andrea Damic says:

    It’s hard to comment when you sense that fiction is no longer fiction because you get lost for words. Very powerful!

  2. Denise Bayes says:

    I read this on Twitter and had to wait to comment because it is so powerful.You create this real town. This real home peopled by laughing children and gossiping babushkas. Then break us with the end. Truly amazing writing.

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