Zombie-like we stumble through the mud, and all I can think of is my cat. I wasn’t sure whether it was better to put her down before the Russians came, but then I decided to let her find her own fate. I am not God. I mourn her loss and the comfort she gave me when she snuggled up beside me in my small bed. Will she be cold? Will she be hungry? Will she be lost? Will she have been shot and eaten? I know that the Russian soldiers are not well provided for. Some don’t even know where or whom they are fighting. We were always close to the “Big Bear,” aware. I don’t think we ever felt safe. Still, there was love and fun, friendship and bullying, Grandmother dying of cancer, Grandfather in a wheelchair. Oh my God, how can I mourn the cat when we had to leave Grandfather behind? I must be soulless. My tears are now close to rolling. My home, my family, my childhood, my youth, my school, my friends... I am beginning to feel the enormity of what we’ve lost. And, suddenly, I remember the fun fair. My friend Anichka. We shared everything, even the horse on the carousel. Mourning the loss of the cat while I haven’t seen Anichka since we passed Lutsk. Who will I become?

hiding in the copse
a group of mud-caked refugees
a yellow scarf

Rose Mary Boehm

is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru, and the author of two novels as well as seven poetry collections. Her poetry has been published widely in mostly US poetry reviews (online and print), and has been twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her most recent collections, Do Oceans Have Underwater Borders? (Kelsay Books, July 2022), Whistling in the Dark (Cyberwit, July 2022), and Saudade (Kelsay Books, November 2022), are available on Amazon.

Author’s website: https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/