Навіщо. What For

***

"Good evening Mum, how you are?"

I don't hear anything else as there's an explosion of "Grad".

It is very loud.

Very very loud.

So loud there's nothing to compare it with.

And I cry, I cry ferociously: "Hide!!!"

And there the reply is, in between missiles, jokingly:

"Mum, if you're being nervous I won't be calling again."

Then I calmly tell him to put on his helmet

And stick empty cartridges into ears:

5.45 millimeters is best for this.

And I get to know that for five hours

His own mother tries to get through

And he can't answer her

As for her he's in the capital working at a construction site

And there it is usually not so loud as is now where he is.

He's a smart aleck for making himself so comfortable: a son of two mums.

And I only have two daughters,

And I am asking myself:

If he were my own, my native son,

Would I cry any louder

Or fall down at the threshold grabbing his feet

So that he does not volunteer for a Guards battalion,

Does not learn to aim to kill, cannot...

Oh no, I might provoke a curse.

And I don't know the answer.

No, I do have the answer: I really would cry

But in silence, as a fish would.

My son has two mums.

Both are far away now.

Somewhere close is the third, enemy's mother.

She, as the neighbors said,

Fled when her son was killed,

A separatist sniper.

My son was at their flat,

He took away two grenade launchers,

The sights and a pile of rounds.

And then he saw fish.

Their mouths were moving.

They say fish's hearing is very bad.

Maybe they have not heard "Grad" until now.

They are so golden, aquarium.

They are from among those fish that fulfill your desires.

He did not make a wish.

He fed them,

He changed water for them.

Because water has to be clean.

Very, very clean.

Transparent

As our entire today's life.

The flat was sealed of course,

He now asks whether there'll be enough food for them

Until the war ends.

Or until mum comes there.

8 August 2014