by Abigail de Vuyst

“How are you doing?”
They routinely ask me this morning
“I’m okay,” I say, a regular response
They haven’t seen the news yet

“How are you doing?”
“I’m alright,” I say, as I hold back tears
I can’t look anyone in the face
They wonder what is going on with me
They haven’t made the connection

“How are you doing?”
Some ask, as they rush over to give me a hug
Every hug today is a little longer
They know the situation
I can’t even answer
I just cry

“How are you doing?”
My professor asks me as I enter the empty classroom
“They’re bombing my city” is all I can say
“Oh no,” they mutter
They remember where I’m from
I collapse into their caring arms

“How are you doing?”
“Have you seen the news,” I say
They do a quick search
“The missiles in Ukraine?” they ask
“Yeah, Russia declared war”
Thankfully, that’s enough of an answer

“How are you doing?
I saw the news
Are you okay?”
“I didn’t sleep last night,” I say
Pity engulfs their face
“I can’t even imagine,” they say

“How are you doing?”
“I’m from Ukraine,” I say
“If you need to talk, go ahead,”
The stranger says in my meeting
I appreciate the care

“How are you doing?”
I sigh; I know I am safe with them
“It’s been a hard day”
They help me process,
Cry with me and pray with me

“How are you doing?”
A bright happy smile
Crossing my path
“I’m good,” I say; I lie
I want to be upset—they don’t realize my situation
But their joyful smile instead
Gives me a moment of hope

I hope that one day
My people can again smile
Without the constant fear and thought of war

“How are you doing?”
I don’t know what to say
The truth is I don’t know how I am doing
I feel like my inside has been ripped open and someone is digging around inside,
trying to steal my heart

I guess that is what is happening
Someone is stealing my heart
Ukraine has always been my heart
Ukraine will always be my heart

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