One and a half million refugees,
so far
have said their farewells
to men who have to stay,
as women hold bewildered children
and grandmothers weep.
A man sees his wife and kids
onto a crammed carriage,
his tears stream as
he watches them leave.
You can feel the connection
between them pulling, stretching.
He will fight for his country
and for them.
And the man in the Kremlin says this is not war.
Sirens sound across cities,
families trail to underground stations
camp on platforms
sleep in stationery trains
keep each other warm.
Blocks of flats
crumble like the twin towers
burn like Grenfell
and no-one can put out the fires.
After the bombings
there are bodies in the streets.
And the man in the Kremlin says this is not war.
Hospitals, nurseries, schools
pummelled from the air
cluster munitions smash a kindergarten
ballistic missiles wreck a health centre.
There’s no water, no food,
no power.
People race to a city centre
where 50 buses wait
to take them across borders
but the ceasefire is a lie
and they are shelled in the streets
where they gather
like prisoners in a ghetto.
And the man in the Kremlin says this is not war.
His military shell nuclear power stations,
cut off the internet
block mobile signals.
Yet the words get out ... people meet...
And thousands of demonstrators
are detained at anti-war protests
across Russia
as the sound of dissent
is stifled.
And the man in the Kremlin still says this is not a war.
