Uneven roads, rubble, and clothes litter the streets.

Remains of houses blasted to structural walls.

Remains of cars, whisked to original parts.

Remains of people, burned and shot. 

The van stops. Sounds of frustration and tiredness fill the vehicle. 

Sadness sweeps over like dark clouds enclosing the blue skies. 

Sadness for the innocent people and pets killed.

Sadness for everything.  

Closed eyes, shut for 3 seconds and open for 3 seconds, repeated. 

We step out, the stench of burnt skin jammed our nostrils.

We step out, parts of the roads strewn in every direction.

We step out, the horrors of this war dawn on us. 

Bodies lay in the streets, long forgotten, like a piece of paper in a student bookbag.

The scenes of this war branded into our brains.

The scenes of this war engraved in the minds of the Ukrainian people. 

The scenes of this war leaving a trail of destruction.  

We close my eyes, trying to forget the horrors. Slowly opening we eyes.

Praying that the bodies have disappeared. 

Praying that the horrors have ended. 

Praying that the war would be finished.

Plastic gloves cover our hands. A hazard mask covering our face. Protection. 

No one knew why people were murdered.

No one knew why a lot of them were tortured.

No one knew what was going to happen after this war. 

We went through dusty doors, written on the doors was “200”— a military code for fatalities. 

Our hands tremble.

Our throat is closing. It’s hard to breathe.

Our heart is palpitates. 

We carry the bodies outside, carefully and respectfully. We put the bodies in the van.

To be delivered to the local morgue.

To be delivered to the mass graves behind the Ukrainian Orthodox church.

To be delivered to Kyiv, medical professionals need to identify the victims.

‘Slava Urkraini’ (Glory to Ukraine)