Pesach by Mykyta Ryzhykh

Daniel Reche

Pesach

Pesach of a severed silent vein

Whose blood flowed through the ditch of world (hi)story?

Hі! – tree branches waving

Hee hee! – the roots of the legs laugh and we are not able to move

Meanwhile the bone of a severed branch crunches underfoot

It crunches somewhere in the chest so that I want to break the insides

Fragments of the pain of water and silent stones weave a wreath

Wreaths are usually put on the heads of Jesus brides ukrainian girls

Wreaths are often placed near the graves in the cemetery

And at night in a bed floating in black cast iron

I dream of flowers without graves

During the sand of time the grass underfoot dries out

Therefore instead of grass in wreaths we braid tears

Grass is our home grass is glass

After death I would like to become grass

After death I would like to become glass

After death I would like to be without legs

After all every new day is a small escape for refugees.

I know that my pupils will no longer see a children’s collage

I always knew that one day my college would be smashed

I knew that one day they would kill us all and prayed that I would die beautifully

Unfortunately I did not die although what are the reasons for living

I teach my (eyes?) pupils not to see

I teach my fictional acquaintances to forget

I teach my legs to sleep and dreams to crumble

However time devours all its bad students anyway

I can’t do anything

I can’t even write

After all what is silent poetry capable of talking 

Аbout today other than war?

Originally published on Orbis 

© Mykyta Ryzhykh

Mykyta Ryzhykh

Mykyta Ryzhykh, an author from Ukraine, now lives in Tromsø, Norway. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2023 and 2024. He’s published in many literary magazines іn Ukrainian and English: Tipton Poetry Journal, Stone Poetry Journal, Neologism Poetry Journal, Shot Glass Journal, QLRS, The Crank, Chronogram, The Antonym, Monterey Poetry Review, Five Fleas Itchy Poetry, and many others.

Follow Feed the Holy