.
“Not dog in the fight, but fight in the dog,”
Some dogs, refuse they to yield,
Will not they give ground or ever back down,
Refuse, these dogs to be heeled.
And though they be small, their shadows are tall,
For might, it’s measured in heart,
Burns something inside as odds they’re defied,
As courage, it sets them apart.
So too it with men, some men become ten,
Some men, refuse they to kneel,
Draw they their swords as face they a horde,
Their hearts, the iron of steel.
These dogs and these men, no concept of when,
When … to lie down and surrender,
Bloodied and battered, lives shorn and then shattered,
Fight on, heroic defenders.
And so it is now, refusal to bow,
Blood, the price of conviction,
Ukrainian dogs, the Russians they flog,
As tyrant becomes an affliction.
As soldiers they fight, too poets they’ll write,
For passion puts poignance in prayers,
For those who defend rise ten thousand pens,
… More loving of dogs than of bears.
.
.
The world watches in horror as one country, guilty of nothing more than wanting its independence, is eviscerated by another. It is a reminder that despite all our high-minded pontificating, humanity has not evolved a single iota. That which drove Hitler and Stalin during the lives of our grandparents, is that which drives Putin today.
But, now as then, the world also watches in astonishment – for while war brings out the worst in us, so too it brings out the best.
Everyday people, with little or no military training, have taken up arms in defense of their homes and their homeland. On paper, they stand little chance of success. And yet, they are doing what all said could not be done – surviving.
Human beings being human beings, we cannot help but be moved by their bravery. And hence, worldwide, millions are doing whatever they can. For while a single wolf has little chance of defeating a bear, a pack of wolves, does. And so, almost as a matter of instinct, we take our place in the ranks ... individually insignificant, cumulatively formidable.
Each according to his station. Presidents, Prime Ministers, Princes and Kings have sent billions in arms and supplies. Tens of thousands of Germans, Poles and Romanians have opened their homes to the millions of refugees who are flooding into their countries. And, the CryptoSphere has already donated more than $60 million to relief efforts.
I am a poet. I can do things with words that most cannot. It may not seem like much in the grand scheme of things but words, well written, move both the hearts and minds of men.
As the English playwright, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, once wrote:
True,—This!
Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword. Behold
The arch-enchanters wand!— itself a nothing!—
But taking sorcery from the master-hand
To paralyse the Cæsars—and to strike
The loud earth breathless!—Take away the sword—
States can be saved without it!
The pen is mightier than the sword. Personally, I think there's a time and place for both. And so, as tens of thousands of Ukrainians fight, I, a poet, will write.
You can join me.
You can become one of #TenThousandPens .
If you can write, write. If you cannot, recite (my poem or others). And don't just stick to English, write or recite in any language you like. Or, if you can, translate a poem from one language to another. In any case, tag your work with #TenThousandPens and post it on every social media platform to which you belong. Upvote, Like, Link & Re-Tweet ... and post-promote as if your life depended upon it.
Further, if you're so inclined, create an NFT (as I intend to do with this poem and others) and donate whatever it earns to Ukraine-related charities (just make sure they're reputable).
Napoleon once said that: "The morale is to the physical as three is to one." The Ukrainians are going through Hell. Yes, they need arms and supplies. But they also need to know that they're not alone ... and they need to be reminded of that fact constantly. They need to know that Men of Good Conscience, the world over ... stand with them. That we will share in their burdens and, should the occasion arise (and it will), take care of their widows and raise their children.
Slava Ukraini.
.
Quill
.
P.S. The photograph upon which the image in the poem was derived is of uncertain origin. Hence, I am uncomfortable minting an NFT in which it appears. If a visual artist would be willing to create and donate an original image to replace it, I would be greatly appreciative.
