I plant flowers while bombs fall in Ukraine. I reach my hands into the damp earth, sewing calendula, clary sage and borage while the lights go out in Kiev. While another hospital—another apartment building or warehouse containing food is shelled—I watch the sky and contemplate rain. All around me people share their fear. Fear of nuclear war. Of another world war. I am surrounded by fear and anxiety and I feel nothing. Fear and anxiety are currently unavailable to me. They have been exhausted after overuse, and I have now only the ability to see what I can do. I cannot stop this war—could not stop the last or the one before that. I have only these two hands and piles of wildflower seeds I have been harvesting all winter. I have only this small corner of the world, and it is here that I focus my attention.
The Lights Go Out in Kiev
The Lights Go Out in Kiev
The Lights Go Out in Kiev
I plant flowers while bombs fall in Ukraine. I reach my hands into the damp earth, sewing calendula, clary sage and borage while the lights go out in Kiev. While another hospital—another apartment building or warehouse containing food is shelled—I watch the sky and contemplate rain. All around me people share their fear. Fear of nuclear war. Of another world war. I am surrounded by fear and anxiety and I feel nothing. Fear and anxiety are currently unavailable to me. They have been exhausted after overuse, and I have now only the ability to see what I can do. I cannot stop this war—could not stop the last or the one before that. I have only these two hands and piles of wildflower seeds I have been harvesting all winter. I have only this small corner of the world, and it is here that I focus my attention.