Mariupol

Fleeting moments from the newscast:

The first images from the invasion of Ukraine.
Mariupol is a seaport city of people of various cultures.
They and their churches, mosques, and synagogues are under siege.

In the corridor of the hospital in Mariupol:
a man’s face, his eyes searching desperately among the chaos.

Seconds later, he is a father, his face broken now into shards of grief,
cradling the head of his sixteen year-old son.
The lifeless body is shrouded in a white hospital bed-sheet, streaked with blood.

Inconsolable; and there is no one there to offer any.
He buries his face into his son’s hair,
caressing the face, his lips alternating kisses and anguished cries.

His very breathing has become grieving.
The camera moves on; its purpose is to witness.
Mine now, is to pray.

In the boy’s still body, behold all those dying in Ukraine.
In his father’s torment, behold the torturing of the Ukrainian people.

I learn that the name Mariupol is an honoring of the Divine Mother.
And so I turn to invoking ancient prayers. Ave Maria.

Ancient prayers for these new wounds:

Ave Maria, courage for the embattled
Ave Maria, safe passage for refugees
Ave Maria, resilience for the aid workers
Ave Maria, consolation for the separated
Ave Maria, hope for the abandoned
Ave Maria, solace for the grieving
Ave Maria, care for the orphans
Ave Maria, wisdom for the peacemakers
Ave Maria, conversion of the hard-hearted.
Ave Maria, your embrace for those who have died.

Now, weeks on, the list of lamentation grows: Kharkiv, Sumy, Kherson, Izium, Kyiv.
The cities of Ukraine are the Stations of the Cross for our day.

Within the suffering that such cruelty has inflicted,
may blessed peace soon arise.

Carlo Busby March 18, 2022