copyright notice

Comments Welcomed

the numbers ...
© 2022, 2023 (revised and numbers updated)
Iony Smith

27000 - without a comma, in gray, it appears smaller, softer and easier to digress than to ingest both the futility and reality of another w a r ... from February 24, 2022 to September 10, 2023, hearing that number, the next day reading the number and now choking on that number.    I do not retain numbers unless critical, but what comes after critical, since before this are the numbers.   Visually streaming from pixels individually unseen, not unlike the 27000 once called civilians, now called dead in Ukraine, or from another geopolitical marker where once called home, now called hell.   

Flashing across the digital screen from the bombs and the newest toy on the battlefield, the drone, retrofitted for destruction - all scoring their hits, the toppled cities under siege.   I hate to see anything die, a n y t h i n g ... shall I close my eyes?    Yet closing eyes of the mind does provide a means for contending and gate keeping the many contradictions near and far. 

The number will continue upwards in its current form, in its day-to-day, frenzied, crazed and unpredictable pace.   And all with the intent for breaking the spirit of the other side so they (as hoped) will lay down and bow to the presumptive, next overseer.   Once the turmoil subsides and all ruins dusted and carted away, only disbelief will remain to bear such witness to these too often missteps, distinctively abominable.

Yet as in all such manufactured calamities, the sanguinary ride through the morass of where past (and dormant) recriminations reside, erupt into the crash.    Now, only that which can be ordered forth by the few holding power will come down to a single person with such authority (perceived or otherwise) denouncing what began on some glorified principle of sovereignty, cultural purity or other attempts to justify, will unequivocally renounce and be receptive to peace.  Then, a semblance of rest through capitulation and a cessation of state, sanctioned executions. 

And as the rain pours and snow on its flurried way, rising steam from the soil emits faint flickers from the glow of simmering embers.   The smouldering refusing to become ash, for fear it will not be ready to ignite when the accord that is forged, cracks apart.  Shovel and dirt cover up what pain cannot, human fragments and pieces too small to collect or identify, now embedded in walking paths mixed in with flowers abloom in popping spectacle.    Retreads kicking up dust, whirling and swirling over newly rebuilt roads as tires pound, pulverize and further bury traces of this ongoing nightmare.

With winter's onslaught and the toll from infrastructure collapse, extreme social and psychological trauma and just too much of lost humanity,  I heard a projection (or someone's vision) to add two zeros to the number of Ukrainian citizens extinguished - but this sounds irresponsible and sensationally misguided, fortunately, highly improbable.   

However, few also thought such an invasion of this magnitude would plant and revisit the grounds of Eastern Europe in this night of day.  Now, echos reverberate on the axis turning the globe, memories short and some long, then the wake up call.   From the entombment of that past, thinking, wishing impervious to repeat, has turned rogue.

Do these conflicts really ever end or just pick up in different locations under different flags - sometimes, even the same colors facing off before as if destiny cannot settle on a plan?

Each digit of the numbers is another human erased.   The numbers are silent, never crying, never bleeding or screaming, that's for the living to do until their number is attached to their toe, assuming this lower extremity is still present for tagging.

NOTEEstimated total troop fatalities (from both sides) as of August 2023, 500,000 (NY Times)


To return to all writings, please go here