The Last Refresh (Russo-Ukrainian)

The mahogany tables are miles away,

Polished to a glare where the statesmen sit.

They trade ink for time, day after day,

While the winter ground opens like a pit

To swallow the boys who have no say.

The news cycle spins on a pendulum swing—

A handshake refused, a phone call missed,

But here, the silence is a violent thing,

And the fog rolls in like a clenched white fist.

​I found him facedown where the mortar fell,

Not clutching a rifle, not gripping a knife.

In the blue-grey light of this frozen hell,

He was holding the glowing anchor of his life:

A cracked screen, hidden beneath his vest,

Thumb hovering over a digital quest.

​I unlocked the ghost of his final thought,

Expecting a map, or coordinates sought,

Or a message to a mother saying "I’m fine."

But the history log tells a different design.

14:02 — “Peace talks progress today”

14:15 — “Ceasefire agreement outcome”

14:20 — “When will the war end”

14:22 — “Is it over yet”

​He wasn’t hunting for glory or lines to defend,

He was refreshing the page, waiting for the end.

Checking the status of men in warm rooms,

While the air above him bloomed with dooms.

He googled salvation in the mud and the sleet,

Hoping the headlines would signal retreat.

​The signal is strong, but the pulse is gone.

The battery dies, but the war drags on.

The browser is open, the cursor still blinks

On a question that fell through the geopolitical chinks.

He died waiting for a page to load

That promised a path to the road back home.

But the suits are still talking, the ink isn't dry,

And the search bar is empty beneath the grey sky.