WORDS, LIKE TEARS, FLOW WITH FLAMES. I WILL GIVE YOU A STAR. THERE’S ALWAYS A PRICE TO PAY FOR EVERYTHING. I AM NO MORE, I’M NOT ALIVE. THE MOMENT PIERCED THE SPACE WITH A SCREAM. TO CURSE IS A SIN AND I KNOW IT. THANK YOU, SON, FOR CHOOSING ME TO BE YOUR

Abstract

It is painful to perceive this poetic confessional prayer of Nataliia Levchenko,
with which her grieving soul turns to her son, who died in the war with the rashist
terrorist regime. It turns in the hope that this prayer of memory and sorrow will
bring her, and not only her, spiritual relief from suffering. Isn’t that why the sad
mother agreed to the publication of these poems because she hopes that her pain, her
memories, and experiences will echo in the souls of hundreds of Ukrainian mothers
who lost their sons and daughters in this violent madness of death?