Echoes of a War We Cannot Touch - 00031

In a time when war returns to Europe, its impact is not only visible in shattered cities but reverberates in the quiet corners of ordinary life. The war in Ukraine, though geographically distant for some, seeps into hearts and minds—especially among the young. For many, it feels surreal, disconnected, yet unbearably real. It fractures trust in the future and leaves behind shadows of fear.

This photographic series is a meditation on vulnerability, longing, and the silent need for warmth and embrace.

Now, more than ever, we need closeness. We need home to be a place of refuge.

 

Poem: “A Future Held in Ash”

They told us war was history,

a chapter closed,

a lesson learned.

 

But here it comes again,

not marching,

but leaking in through screens

and fragments of foreign languages

we never meant to understand.

 

Children dream in shades of blue and gold,

not knowing whether flags

mean freedom or farewell.

 

We carry the weight of sirens

in our chests,

even as birds still sing

from tiled rooftops

and coffee brews

in morning kitchens.

 

There is silence now

in the laughter of youth—

a pause,

a flicker of eyes

toward a horizon that trembles.

 

And in that trembling

we gather closer,

build fortresses of softness:

woollen blankets,

a hand across the table,

an unspoken vow

to make home a sanctuary.

 

Even if the sky breaks open—

let us hold each other

through the noise.

 

Three Haikus

1.

News breaks like glass panes

and the wind carries the fear—

still, we light the stove.

 

2.

A knock in the night—

no soldiers at our doorstep,

but still we don't sleep.

 

3.

In your quiet arms

the war cannot enter here—

for one breath, we're safe.

 

 

Done