Slava Ukraini

The air raid sirens blaring through the city of Lviv were a stark reminder that Ukraine is at war. 

Over three years ago, President Vladimir Putin ordered the Russian army to invade his neighbor. Since that time, Ukraine has been fighting for its freedom and repelling the aggression of a tyrant, even recently conducting a clandestine drone attack on Russian soil.

While in Lviv this week, I encountered some of the most remarkable people on the planet. Each day, Ukrainians wake to another day of war, their sons and daughters returning in caskets, and an unknown future to what might lie ahead. However, Ukrainian resolve has never been stronger, as I have witnessed it while learning about their struggles and hopes.  

Every day, at nine o’clock in the morning, the country pauses to reflect on the war, say a prayer for their soldiers, and dream of a Ukraine free from foreign invaders. For an entire minute, the country stops in its tracks. 

 It’s one of the most surreal moments I’ve ever experienced. Then, at the end of the minute, a voice over the intercom proudly offers, “Slava Ukraini!”, which is to say, “Glory to Ukraine.”

Ukrainian glory can be seen in the eyes of its people as they walk the streets each day, pride swelling in their hearts for their country. Yet, along with that pride, tears can be seen in their eyes, for their freedom is being bought at a high price.  

When driving through Ukraine, every city, town, and village has a monument square with photos of the soldiers they have lost in battle. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy recently reported that Ukraine had lost over 100,000 soldiers over the last three years.

Back in Lviv, I attended a funeral for two soldiers killed in battle. Their caskets made their way to the church through an honor guard compiled by their fellow soldiers.  

Their families walked slowly behind the caskets, as onlookers knelt in honor of the soldiers and their families.  Inside the church, moans echoed through the cathedral as families listened to a Greek Orthodox cantor lament over the accountant and mechanic who had turned into warriors.  

After the service, the caskets were taken to a new cemetery, which was created three years ago, outside the old one. Walking up to the graveyard, you’re struck by the number of flags waving in the warm breeze. Lviv has had to say goodbye to hundreds, if not over a thousand, of its sons and daughters.  

Sitting by many of the graves were widows and family members tending to them. They would pause every now and again, staring and weeping at their loved one’s photo.  It was heartbreaking to witness.

The glory of Ukraine comes with tears and broken hearts, yet, coupled with the immense pain is an unimaginable resolve. That resolve was fully displayed when I visited the Superhumans Center outside Lviv.

The Superhumans Center was created to treat wounded soldiers who lost limbs during battle. Patients receive reconstructive surgeries, state-of-the-art prosthetics, physical therapy, and mental healthcare. 

The center has become one of the leading hospitals globally for prosthetics. Doctors and engineers use cutting-edge technology, such as 3D printers, to create prosthetic limbs and help in reconstructive surgeries. 

While patients wear the pain of war in their eyes, listening to their stories and experiencing their hospitality was inspiring. Late in the day, I interviewed the wife of one of the patients (The Center asked us to interview English speakers only). 

Anya’s husband, Sasha, is a helicopter mechanic who lost his leg when the Russians bombed his unit.  Listening to her tell Sasha’s story and how the center has helped them restore their faith in humanity, even when faced with such evil coming from Russia.  

Anya jokingly told me, “Marvel should come to the Superhumans Center to make a new movie, Captain Ukraine.” She’s so right!

While the main focus of the center is helping wounded soldiers, they have been admitting humanitarian workers and children who’ve lost limbs. The Russian army continues to violate human rights by bombing humanitarian workers, first responders, and burying landmines. It truly is evil incarnate.

As I left Ukraine, I left part of my heart and soul with these incredible people. Yes, Ukraine is at war, but I am confident they will prevail against the dark tyranny invading their home.  

While researching the country before my trip, I ran across a poem by Oksana Stomina. Stomia was born in Mariupol and currently lives abroad as a poet, writer and human rights activist. 

Her poem is titled “The Sunflower” and she dedicated it to her husband, Ukrainian warrior, Dmytro Paskalov.

My love, you live in February and I in September.
Since that abyss opened between us,
Thunderous the days go by, alarms, people,
Flowing between disappointment and despair.
Between us is the usual ‘towards nothingness’
made of glass that could shatter, anytime.

This road is too long and painful,
Too great is our distance, unsteady is the earth,
But I persist in casting spells for you, I keep living
Tenaciously kissing your thoughtful eyes,
Forever begging God to be on our side in this war.

The distance between us is measured in sleepless nights,
Scars on the heart and whitening temples,
But the sunflower of hope, bright and strong,
Keeps on blossoming and stretching its leaves to the sky,
like the one that growing on my balcony.
You’ll be back soon, my love, and you’ll see it for yourself!

Slava Ukraini!