(Re)treat

retreat [/rɪˈtriːt/]: noun

1: movement by soldiers away from an enemy
because the enemy is winning or has won a battle

2: movement away from a place or situation
especially because it is dangerous, unpleasant, etc.

3: the act of changing your opinion or position on
something because it is unpopular

4: the act or process of moving away

5 a: a place that is quiet and private
b: a trip to a place where you can quietly pray, think,
study, etc.
(The Britannica Dictionary)

“Morning: they are bombing the city. Night: I am
editing my poems. Morning: bombardments again.
For everything, there is time: bombardments, fear,
quiet, loved ones, moments of wonder. Reality
fragments.
Those who saw war understand this.”
–Drmitry Bliznyuk, poet from Kharkiv

(shared on twitter by Ilya Kaminsky, 2 nd May 2022)

 

i.

[A zoom classroom at a UK University. ‘Creative
Practice in Conflict Engagement and
Peacebuilding’, semester 2, week 6: poetry. The
end of week 1 of a new war.]

We see metal / and concrete, a seagull / and toys
on the floor. / A piece of home / in a window. A
vase, / falling petals. A pile / of laundry. / We see
smoke.

We have noticed how / war has knocked / yet again.
That we are tired, / looking forward / to spring. The
compost / almost ready. Friends / picking up / arms.
Daffodils. / That the student / from Russia / has left /
for home.

We write of falling / leaves in Kashmir / peace /
keeping in Darfur. / The hours of silence / in
Myanmar / the first strike / on the first night / of the
war / in Yemen.

 

ii.

[Scenes from my grandfather’s war diary, written
during and after his experience as a paramedic in
the German army. Russia/Ukraine, 1941-1945.]

He remembers snow / storms and stoves / like the
one in his village / back home. The way chickens
slept / under the stoves and how / people slept on
them. / Frostbite / and lice.

He remembers the width / of the sunflower fields. /
The long journey / west to bury / his father, / the
break / from Russia / Ukraine, / his love.

He remembers retreat. / How elderly men were /
gathered / forced / to march, / the question / where
to? / How on leaving / a village, the houses / were
burned.

He / remembers     /                 /       //   /           /      /

 

iii.

[Staryi Bykiv, Ukraine. April 2022.]

The day the Russians / arrived, they / killed six /
men. In normal times, / little happens: ducks /
waddle in potholes. People / tend to their own /
small plots. These / are not / normal / times.

The night before / they left, they drank, grilled /
meat. One was ordered / to provide / four corpses. /
In the school, / on the blackboard, messages:
Forgive / us, we did / not want this war. / Let’s live
peace / fully.

The day / the journalists came / men and women
wandered / the streets / in shock. Children / gawped
at the charred / shells of tanks. Elders / took their
grief / for a walk.

—–

A note on sources

i.   In March 2022, I ran a poetry workshop on Zoom for students on my module ‘Creative Practice in Conflict Engagement in Peacebuilding’, University of Bradford, UK. For this group of international students, the then new war in Ukraine evoked memories of their own experiences of violence and war and mixed feelings about the ways in which those experiences had been re/presented to others. Most of the images in this piece are from participants’ responses to prompts, recorded via the chat in zoom.

ii.   In 1939 and 1940, my grandfather wrote a diary that contains many details of his daily experience as a conscript in the German army. In 1988, he decided to add an account of the rest of the war, ‘for completeness’. My text is inspired by the words in that account, set mostly in Russia and Ukraine between 1941 and 1945. Also by the silences.

iii.   This is based on an article in The Guardian in the aftermath of the Russian retreat from Staryi Bykiv, a Ukrainian village that had been occupied for 32 days between the end of February and early April 2022. (Shaun Walker, ‘After Russians’ retreat, scarred Ukrainian village recounts month of terror’, The Guardian, 9th April 2022.)

Ute Kelly started writing poetry during the first Covid lockdown, which she experienced as a bit of a retreat. She has since published poems on her blog, in Rue Scribe, Topical Poetry and Willows Wept Review. She works as an Associate Professor in Peace Studies at the University of Bradford, UK. Some of her poems are inspired by the conversations she has with students from many different places.

https://fromthehonestybox.home.blog/
Instagram: ute.kelly.13