It’s the turning of a key in a lock already broken
The shattering of windows blown out glass
Family photographs and baby dolls
Blood seeps between the cracks of linoleum floors
Layers of life like the traditional honey cake
Reminders of how fragile independence can be
Lingering to the east a sentiment to destroy
Off in the distance a solo cellist plays
With pride courage and chutzpah
Notes float with intention to uplift to ignite – amour-propre

“Ukraine’s glory has not yet perished, nor her freedom”

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