Ever since February 24th, my life has been narrowed into brief interludes between air-ride sirens, empty shelves, and the lambent light of basements.
My neighbors have left while I stay put, they say that trains are being bombed.
I know the streets where I’ve grown old, and though my dreams have been replaced by coping, taking care of the stray animals left behind.
At night doubt comes to visit, but with daylight, I’ve decided to stay, for how can I be sure?
I shall see again the world on the first of May I tell myself, but what will world be then? Will Paris have ceased? London? New York?
This place I know, and through the shelling, I hear the leaves are bursting to break.
Soon April will end, then summer arrives, and then with fall, there will be walnuts again.
I stay behind.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir
Today we write prosery with Merril at dVerse. She has chosen the following part of a poem:
“For how can I be sure
I shall see again
The world on the first of May”
–From “May Day” by Sara Teasdale
To incorporate into your own piece of prose having no more than 144 words. I prefer to match that exactly but you are free to make your own choice.
I am thinking a lot about both the people fleeing the war, but I think it is important to remember also those staying behind.
May 9, 2022
Good
Very poetic, as as you said melancholy feeling. I can imagine this as so true. I like the idea of waiting for the walnuts, that tangible thing we hold onto.
An extremely moving and important piece Björn! ❤️
The last two paragraphs are stunning, Bjorn. I hope Ain gets to read this. Made even more powerful written in the first person.
I keep thinking about the women and children who fled months ago….do they even know if their husbands, brothers, or sons are alive? How will they find out? If they die, how with they find where they are buried and how will they have the closure of praying at their grave? Such a sad sad thing…and for what? One man’s evil. I thought after Nazi Germany the world said “never again”?
This has the ressonance of a superb short story. I really like it very much — reminds me have been living in their cellars, shelters, metro stations for over a month now, some two months as I understand. I was just thinking about that today though, how I understand some people refusing to leave. But making the person a loner gives so much more emotional depth to the story.
I listened to someone reading from a diary of a person staying behind, talking to people … I think my person might have been one of the persons in her notes.
That’s so interesting, yes, the story behind..
I shudder to think how lonely it must be! Very moving piece of writing, Björn.
Well done Bjorn! Staying behind has to be a difficult choice, but sometimes the choice is made for you. I liked this line…
At night doubt comes to visit, but with daylight, I’ve decided to stay, for how can I be sure?
So many of these reference war. Our collective minds are doing ‘battle’ as we are all aware innocent people are dying. Well done!
“the lambent light of basements” … I love that line. How beautiful. I love how you split and repurposed the quote. Very clever. A true soldier, journalist, humanitarian, or lover of home would absolutely make this choice. And oh, the walnuts—that was the perfect touch. A detail of beauty, a sensate connection, something natural to look forward—new seasons will always come around to heal and renew.
I recently saw a news story about a woman living underground in a train car. I could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. I wept with her how very unsettling to have your very existence hinge on threads of hope. How did this ever happen? Your words are a voice for those left behind.
Intense, poignant writing!
I understand why, through your poem, some choose to stay behind. Powerful writing.
That last image of the walnuts puts it all in perspective. Powerful flash.
‘There will be walnuts again’ ~ love this!
WOW! That shifting of thinking from the war to the nature’s cycle that no bombs can intercede in. Impactful writing, Bjorn.
I love how you wove those walnuts into the story, Björn ❤
The walnuts were the perfect ending. Hope is a powerful emotion.
What would I choose? Being old, I believe I too would stay. I understand this narrator very well. (K)