In those days you will stand by the window,
Quiet, unbroken.
Sweat in uncomplicated sunshine,
Care not to move,
Soak in simple circumstance,
Dare, blink, unclench your tendons tired of war.

You will manage.
Look out at the apartment opposite,
Sluggish concrete bored, yawning at the shade.
It will be there next year,
Either with fresh paint or with its aged dusty cheek.
Sparrows won’t mind which.

Less murder. 
Less sleeplessness.
Less funeral music marched slowly past the kneelers.
Your breath, a shadow of serenity on the cold glass.
In those days you will practice ordinary life.
You will manage.
You will be there next year.

Alastair McIvor
Varash, Rivnenska, 2024 December

About Manage with Less

This poem is part of a chapbook collection I have written, documenting my time in 2024 when I lived in Vienna, travelled to Ukraine for work, and in between each trip, visited my father in the UK who was dying. It is written, thinking of one of my Ukrainian friends, with hope for a peaceful future.