30.01.2026

“I hated my memories during the first year of the war”: Mariia’s story from Siverskodonetsk

Mariia is from Siverskodonetsk, Luhansk region. Her hometown is currently under Russia’s occupation. She has been writing for a third of her life, and at just eighteen, she has already published a poetry collection. For her, writing is not a choice, but the only possible path in her life. She searches for words for everything she sees and thinks about, trying to capture what her memory holds.

But the war has taken away the very things memory is made of. Since Russia launched its full-scale invasion, her memory has changed, becoming mechanical, rational, and dry. Her mind now simply documents life, keeping a precise record of events.

I madly hated my memories during the first year of the war. Now, all the memories I have are very rationalized; mechanical things that my brain has simply learned to do. This memory is very dry, and there are far fewer feelings in it. You don’t feel anything in it, in this memory,

she says.

Now, Mariia says she can’t remember loving anyone. Only the people she knew she loved before Russia's full-scale invasion. Whether it’s even possible to fall in love again and hold on to that in memory, she doesn’t even know.

She is afraid of forgetting how, at four years old, she ran around her great-grandmother’s house beating rugs, while her grandmother scolded her: “Mariika, your great-grandmother will fall and then she won’t be here anymore.” She is afraid of forgetting an evening in dim light, watching musicians play baroque music, and feeling as if she were inside a fairytale. She is afraid of forgetting that sound and losing everything that makes humans alive. Everything that makes us sensitive not only here and now, but always.

“I hated my memories during the first year of the war”: Mariia’s story from Siverskodonetsk — Image 1

“I hated my memories during the first year of the war”: Mariia’s story from Siverskodonetsk — Image 2

During the war, Mariia joined a poetry art lab by the Voices of Children Foundation, where 18 teenagers spent four months learning to write poetry under the mentorship of Ukrainian writer and translator Kateryna Mykhalitsyna.

The residency gave her the stillness she had been asking for. It brought back her desire to write. It gave her the people she wanted to talk to and sing with. It gave her calm and silence — a pleasant quiet.

We realized together that this huge stone of stillness, so heavy in the chest yet somehow pleasant, contains life within it, contains movement. And that this great stone of stillness always has movement at its core,

Mariia says.

She wants to remember the sound of a vast inner silence when there is nothing at all. Like a forest where her voice is the only thing that exists in the entire world. She believes that all of us should stay in our own current and not be afraid that it will fail us. A river’s banks never disappear. There are no rivers without banks.

Listen to her story.

The Voices of Children Foundation runs the art labs so that teenagers who have lost their familiar world can restore it.

We will continue to support children through art and in other ways. Together, we can help even more children and teenagers who need it. You can support our work with a donation or by sharing our updates.

If you or your child needs support, you can reach out to our centers across Ukraine or contact our psychological support helpline at 0 800 210 106.