A son’s sorrow

In the past days, the Russian opposition has shown its true colors. They’re not really that different from Putin – they just use Western-style propaganda instead of Putin’s Eastern-style. It seems like Russian history keeps repeating this pattern of not really changing.

My biological father was a nationalist who fought for Ukraine to be free and independent. He gave his life for this cause. I can remember him more positively than many Russians might remember their fathers. He was both a nationalist and a realist, which means he loved Ukraine deeply but also understood that the world isn’t simple. He believed in respecting life and wouldn’t just hurt people. Even though he was devoted to Ukraine, he taught me to respect others and be honest about the difficult parts of our history.

Like how he knew I was gay, which is a very controversial topic in Ukraine. Despite this, he always accepted me and often told me how proud he was to have me as his son. Or how he made sure I understood that Ukraine also has dark chapters in its past, including the unforgivable acts committed against the Polish and Jewish people.

Here are some of his words that I’ll always remember, translated to English in the best of my capabilities:

‘Be nice to Polish people and Jewish people, even if they’re not always nice to you. Don’t try to defend our history, as it doesn’t deserve protection. Show that we are no longer like our ancestors were, show that we can do better. Our only enemy is Russia, the ones led by the Devil’s influence. Pray for them to be free someday, even if it will be a long fight before they can drive out the Devil and what it left behind.’

Due to the recent events related to the Russian opposition, and out of respect for my biological father and my own feelings and beliefs, I decided to write the poem below.

My poem:

Мій тато¹, my hero, my strength and my guide,
took me to the border, with nowhere to hide.
“Синку², be brave,” he whispered through tears,
as he hugged me tight, confronting his fears.
“I must defend our home, our land, our pride,”
then he turned away, back to the frontline’s side.

Weeks turned to months, no word from my тато¹,
I prayed every night, “Боже³, let him come home.”
But the news came one day, a message so grim,
a Russian bullet, his life taken from him.
Now I’m left here, in a foreign land,
longing for the touch of his strong, gentle hand.

My new family, they try to understand,
but the void in my heart, it’s hard to withstand.
I dream of my тато¹, his smile and his laugh,
in a world before war tore my homeland in half.
The pain never fades, it cuts like a knife,
курва⁴, this war has stolen my life.

I see Russians cheering, their hearts full of hate,
supporting this war, sealing Ukraine’s fate.
They turn a blind eye to the lives they destroy,
the fathers, the sons, the dreams they employ.
How can they not see the blood on their hands?
As they rip apart families, and ravage our lands.

Oh, Батьківщино⁵, my heart yearns for you,
for the fields and the streets that I once knew.
I carry your spirit, your strength in my soul,
though this war has taken its merciless toll.
One day, I’ll return, to rebuild and restore,
and honor my тато¹, forevermore.

[Music video by Dj Zodiak+ (Marek Kliks)]

Footnotes:

1. Мій тато (miy tato): my dad (Ukrainian)
2. Синку (synku): son (vocative case) (Ukrainian)
3. Боже (Bozhe): God (Ukrainian)
4. Курва (kurva): damn/whore (a strong expletive) (Ukrainian)
5. Батьківщина (Batkivshchyna): motherland, homeland (Ukrainian)