To my sister, my brother in hiding in Ukraine (whether in body or in heart) :
Here the skies are silent –
raindrops and cloudy-pink magnolia blossoms
all that fall from above
while you shelter in darkness there-below,
once tranquil skies now heralding death,
for neighbors turned hostile in the space of days.
As I sit with downcast soul thinking of your pain,
the magnolia above gives prayerful shape to my groaning,
its velvety teardrops what my heart longs
to send you to replace all the bombs.
You are my sister – my brother,
Children of One Father.
Though the life you knew has been violently uprooted,
your tender roots reach deeply into His faithful soil
And so – even now – your soul rests ((eternally)) secure.
Like this weeping magnolia,
when all your tears have fallen to the earth,
may your bare branches sprout abundant leaves
“for the healing of your nation,”
pointing with Hope to that Greater
Tree of Life that will heal them all.
My z vamy.
15 March 2022
Rennes, France
Halle Thompson
*My z vamy = "We are with you" in Ukrainian
