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Mind’s Eye

Bill Tope

Sasha stood at the edge of the woods,
watching the wind spread the limbs of
mostly pine trees but also oak and birch
and the national tree, the Guelder Rose,
with its wide, waxy green leaves and thick
clusters of scarlet berries. Abutting the
woods is a magnificent garden which is
thriving.

There are Hellanthus annuus, the
sunflowers, of course, which grow
everywhere. And hollyhock and
the Crocus—beautiful, she thinks.
And Camomiles, Azaleas, Orchids
and Lilies and Roses, Daisies and the
lonely, delicate Carnations, like the
white one she was gifted by her
grandmother when Sasha was
married two years ago, before
Andriy went off to war.

His name is Ukrainian for “warrior,” so
he joked with her that he must go, in order
to live up to his given name. Sasha didn’t
think it was funny, though she realized as
he did that he must go to defend their
country.

Sasha looks back at the splendid garden, but
what she finds makes her shoulders slump.
She finds only craters in the rich, scarred soil
and a huge Russian tank which was
immobilized by the Ukrainian army and then
abandoned by the Russians. Nearby stand
once handsome homes which were destroyed
as well. All the windows are missing and many
show signs of fire damage. The Russians are
animals, she thinks.

The forest is but a black skeletal relic of what
it once was; not a green leaf grows from its
charred, stick-like limbs. The trees, she now
realizes, as well as the wonderful garden,
exist only in her mind’s eye, her memory.
She peers bleakly at the blighted, ravaged
area, spies there a single sunflower, peeping
up through the soil in the shadow of the
ruined tank.

Sunflowers, the national flower, will not be
bested, she thinks proudly. They are
unconquerable, like the Ukrainian people
themselves, and will always return. At last
she permits herself but a small smile.

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