Guest Editorial by D.E. Steward

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He invaded a large contingent country

His war with atrocities is cast and it will not be a pleasant world now

It is his plan

Russkiy Mir

Russia, Ukraine and Belarus as one united civilization flowing from the tenth century baptism of the Slavic tribes in Kyiv, then the quiddity of Rus

He is killing those he claims are Russian

Targeting apartment blocks deliberately   

Scorching cities

Planting landmines in anger at civilians, wielding missiles and fléchettes to terrorize

In Great Russia’s name                                                                                                                                    
He began with probes in moderate force

Anticipative of a collapse and Zelensky’s exit to exile

Then ballistic and hypersonic missiles and high altitude bombing

Targeting civilians with cluster and thermobaric missiles

Next tactics of retaliatory response in frustration and confusion at the impasse, and in revenge for Russian losses

His delusional volition ego has no option but to commit

His obduracy boundless and terrifying

The more he looses the less he gains

He is our present’s 1939

Urban bombing as it was in last century’s wars

The dead, the hopelessness, the wasted dead

Their agonies  

“Lament and weep, stretched out upon the ground.”  (Michelangelo, Complete Poems)

More months of it multiplying the many tens of thousands already killed 

“When this war is over, Europe will no longer be defined by the history of the Second World War. The next era of European history, whenever it begins, will be the aftermath of the war in Ukraine.”  (Masha Gessen)


Documented with the deluge of refugees

A family’s life is in an apartment block pinpointed for rocket attack or shelling from distant howitzers

If a barrage begins, death from concussion or by fire under rubble   

If they survive they are refugees

To leave with what they carry into the gaping oblivion immediately their future

Five million and more shift westward now across broad bloodlands

The men remaining to fight

“Leaning on the lathes of death”  (Osip Mandelstam)