by Annie Cowell
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| Mural with swallows, Kyiv. |
At dawn there is a chattering outside;
the swallows have returned—
A clattering percussion after winter’s silence
And I wonder as I watch them
hurtling like arrows across the sky—
are there swallows shrieking over Kyiv?
Whilst missiles blast the light from Kyiv’s skies
will children spy the swallows darting past;
olive twigs hanging from their beaks?
Will those birds find their nests are broken
and sit instead on the prow of Charon’s boat
to guide the dead to the underworld?
Or rather, as sirens wail in breathless darkness
will the swallows glitter amongst the stars—
souls of the dead heralding the sun?
They say that true hope is swift
Annie Cowell is a former teacher living in Cyprus. She has poems forthcoming in a number of publications. @AnnieCowell3