By Mark Ellis —
In not quite March
the tanks rolled through the village Orlovsky in the Donetsk
the bombs were falling as they died
and children cried
in subaltern basements
frozen solid in layers of concrete
and dim yellow light
shoulder to shoulder we faced him down
his glowering presence with eyes of smelted tin
we waved a blue and yellow banner
and faced him down with hymns
sung brightly in the noon day sun
of hearts alive
in Jesus
