Ukraine | Mariia Kaziun | 2024 Under water Time. Space. Time. Night. Point. Place. Surface tension. Water surface. Breathe in. I walk. Street. Metro. University.
Ukraine | Ivan Miletich | 2024 Erased at the shoulders When I was seven years old, we move to a city that was mistreated by the 90s, choked by poverty, where fish floated on the surface of the water. The sun and sea breeze smiled, the ruins of the jetties and the rust-corroded ships evoked hopelessness.
Ukraine | Mykhailo Krasilnikov | 2024 Unfamiliar friend Hello, it difficult for us to get the dialogue started again, our connection is distant, and this is just its epilogue.
Ukraine | Natalia Serebrjakowa | 2024 A banana On a white plate in the middle of the table lies a banana. Yellow-brown, just short of rotten. It is neither too large nor too small, an ordinary banana with a stem.
Ukraine | Anastasiia Dunaieva | 2024 Me? A pit Me? A pit in grandfather’s garden, inside dry leaves, raked together, hits me urine from the tomcat next door and the marbles of a small girl.
Ukraine | Anastasiia Dunaieva | 2024 Language in conflict On this grey day, I’m sitting in a regional train from Berlin to Nuremberg to meet up with friends. We used to meet several times a week back in Ukraine, but here we only see each other every six month.
Ukraine | Nadiia Kulish | 2024 Like home A German four-storey house. A building from the Wilhelminian era in Berlin’s Charlottenburg district. A two-room flat in the second floor without a lift. It wasn’t hard at all to get our things up there because all we had were clothes and shoes that someone in Berlin had kindly given us when we were still staying with him.
Ukraine | Iryna Omelyanchuk | 2023 Four Words A call from Kyiv at 4.50 in the morning. My husband’s best friend. We don’t want to pick up. It keeps ringing.
Ukraine | Nadiia Kulish | 2024 Rooted in rhymes With the war’s shock wave I was flung far into a foreign land I am a tree torn up by the roots, And now rotting slowly, banished to small pot.
Ukraine | Mariia Kaziun | 2024 Deutsche Bahn Well, here we are. The waiting, the motion, the time. From Warsaw to here. Berlin Central Station. Beaming building, a bright horizon, which will soon turn into a headache.
Ukraine | Tetiana Hurba | 2023 Anaphora for Ukraine Each night, when I sleep, I return home. Each night I wander my homeland.
Ukraine | Natalia Kalova | 2023 To my son Daniel, I want to tell you now why we are here, in Berlin. It was the 23rd of February. That was when, at ten in the evening, the first reports reached us that something bad was about to happen.
Ukraine | Daria Py | 2023 Newsfeed I think of mom’s face Turned towards her screen, in awareness mode. Her mouth gaping, her stubby eyebrows Growing taller And the lines on her face Printing away at my eyes.
Ukraine | Mariia Kaziun | 2023 Two kinds of Love Do you know what love is? No, not kochannya, the red-blooded love between people That makes the unrestrained heart and body rush at once To the one who is your light.
Ukraine | Nadiia Kulish | 2023 Right or left The station, the kids, the soup kitchen, the countless toys, the announcements, the people in yellow hi-vis.
Ukraine | Nadiia Kulish | 2023 Not Born For War The mother’s coat, of meekness and strength, she wears it, her son lies now under the earth.
Ukraine | Mykhailo Krasilnikov | 2023 Serenade for the father In class today we learned all about the Aubade, said the kid quietly, a sort of serenade. That’s nice, little one, said the boy’s mother, sit still now dear, I’m putting things away.
Ukraine | Mykhailo Krasilnikov | 2023 Would you like to Would you like to go out for a drink? Would you like to know what’s my name? Would you like to go see the swans down the lake?
Ukraine | Dmytro Krasilnikov | 2023 How good would it be How good would it be, to just breathe deeply, how good would it be, to just live care free, how good would it be, if people loved each other, how good would it be, if it was like –
Ukraine | Dmytro Krasilnikov | 2023 War Makes Decision Makers I cross the city, familiar and comfortable. I give a visitor advice, his face is pale.
Ukraine | Anastasiia Dunaieva | 2023 The Impossibility of Complacency Touching embroidered crosses As a reminder of belonging. I feel a great yearning To dive and keep diving deeper.
Ukraine | Anastasiia Dunaieva | 2023 Last day I can’t believe it, but I know it’s true: “This is the end.” I head towards it.
Ukraine | Nadiia Kulish | 2023 Powers of Memory In my powers of memory your name comes top. I dried mandarin and mint and drew a full stop. I wore your scent until the rain washed it away.
