Of all the tear-jerking images of war on the edges of Europe, one or two have stayed with me: birds shocked from their treetop roosts by the deep boom of artillery fire; a woman handing out sunflower seeds to occupying Russian forces.
This poem has grown from these images. Like In Flanders Fields (from which it borrows heavily and compares badly), it’s a rondeau. Sadly, John McCrae had first hand experience of war to inform his work. Glady, I have none. So please forgive any unintended insensitivity. It is, necessarily, a work of imagination.
So Sunflowers Grow
So sunflowers grow where you die
She said with hate-and-hope-pierced eye
Then handed the soldier a seed
It will grow when Ukraine is freed
Rooted in your blood, in your lie.
Air sucked from a bird-shrapneled sky
Lungs emptied before the reply
No thanks heard. Silent, unstaunched bleed
So sunflowers grow.
Shot once they said: sniped; head too high.
Crumpled camo, no time to lie
Unregimented – pulled up weed
Withered. Lifeless. Yet in that deed
Of decomposting spirits fly
So sunflowers grow.
I’ve been wondering about my line “with hate-and-hope-pierced eye” and if the woman handing out sunflower seeds (the sunflower is the national flower of Ukraine) was hateful, hopeful or, as I had assumed for reasons of poetic licence, both.
Here, thanks to the London Economic is a full transcript of her exchange with the soldiers. Draw your own conclusions!
Woman: Who are you?
Soldier: We have exercises here. Please go this way.
Woman: What kind of exercises? Are you Russian?
Soldier: Yes.
Woman: So what the fck are you doing here?
Soldier: Right now our discussion will lead to nothing.
Woman: You are occupants, you are fascists! What the fuck are you doing on our land with all these guns? Take these seeds and put them in your pockets, so at least sunflowers (Ukrainian national flower) will grow when you all lie down here.
Soldier: Right now our discussion will lead nowhere. Let’s not escalate this situation. Please.
Woman: What situation? Guys, guys. Put the sunflower seeds in your pockets please. You will lie down here with the seeds. You came to my land? Do you understand? You are occupiers. You are enemies.
Soldier: Yes.
Woman: And from this moment, you are cursed. I’m telling you.
Soldier: Now listen to me…
Woman: I’ve heard you.
Soldier: Let’s not escalate the situation. Please go this way.
Woman: How can it be further escalated? You fcking came here uninvited. Pieces of sh*t.
I would like the author to know that I am a public school teacher, currently focusing on metaphors as a way to describe and document history. I will be using the poem in class as we break down the connection between Ukraine as sunflowers and Russia as weeds. Thank you!
Thank you Alivia. I am delighted that the poem is of help in this way. It’s one of the reasons why I write in the first place. Words matter.