WRITING
UKRAINE BLOG
I write about my experience traveling and volunteering in Ukraine, giving a unique and personal account of what it’s like to be in Ukraine during war.
https://katyachizayeva.substack.com
ARTICLES
https://www.vianolavie.org/2022/06/24/ukrainian-voice-series-emma-duplantis/
I am an author of Ukrainian Voices series, published in Nola Vie online magazine in June 2022. The four interviews with Ukrainians living and responding to war in New Orleans meant to amplify Ukrainian activists' voices in our community.
https://www.kyivpost.com/post/22796
2023 article about Ukraine Wellness Project work at the rehabilitation center Lisova Polyana in Kyiv
Instagram @ukrainewellnesslisova
POETRY SPACE
Making You Solo/ in 3 languages
I remember her profile
The purple umbrella and the sharp nose
Feeling of not being cared for
Because i was getting wet
The candy wrapper was bright red
in the field of green
My own orchestra of rain
Our steps synchronized in unison
The rocks, round river rocks in the ditch, near the long pause
Through the L shaped roadway
The joy of truly seeing green reflection
off the chimney cast on the roof
Merging with a tall oak
Our eyes met
As foreign countries barely touching,
we moved into the rain together.
Than a surprise, behind the brick wall
The poke bush,
the privacy of the hidden corner
Brown auburn bricks
And suddenly a thought crossed me
Oh god, this is how they were shot,
From the DNA of someones’ memories
Against the wall,
And I need to go, get out of there, now
I remember her silhouette, sharp and quiet
Being with nothing but the world and her
Attention, a relief after so much moving
I remember changing my interests quickly,
delighted in unexpected new pathways
And how familiar this following was
for me, like a good friend
For her, like a cold mother
Зробити вас соло
Я пам'ятаю її профіль
Пурпурний парасольку і гострий ніс
Відчуття того, що про вас не піклуються
Тому що я промокла
Обгортка від цукерки була яскраво-червона
в полі зелені
Мій власний оркестр дощу
наші стіпи synchronized in unison
Скелі, круглі річкові камені в канаві, біля довгої паузи
Через Г-подібну проїжджу частину
Радість по-справжньому бачити зелене відображення
з димаря, кинутого на дах
Злиття з високим дубом
Наші очі зустрілися
Як іноземні країни ледь торкаючись,
ми разом ходили під дощем.
Чим сюрприз, за цегляною стіною
Кущ поке,
приватність прихованого куточка
Коричнево-коричнева цегла
І раптом мене осяяла думка
Боже, так їх розстріляли,
З ДНК чиїхось спогадів
Позаду стіни,
Я потребую, щоб отримати, зараз
Я пам’ятаю її силует, різкий і тихий
Бути ні з чим, крім світу та неї
Прихильність, як полегшення після стількох переїздів
Я пам'ятаю, як швидко змінив свої інтереси,
в захваті від несподіваних нових шляхів
І яким знайомим було це наступне
для мене як хороший друг
Для неї як холодна мати
Заставляю тебя соло
Я помню ее профиль
Пурпурний зонтик и острый нос
Ощущение отсутствия заботы
Потому что я промокла
Фантик был ярко-красным.
в зеленом поле
Мой собственный оркестр дождя
наши стипи синхронизировались в унисон
Камни, круглые речные камни в канаве, возле долгой паузы
Через Г-образную проезжую часть
Радость по-настоящему увидеть зеленое отражение
от дымохода на крыше
Сливаясь с высоким дубом
Наши глаза встретились
Як иноземные края едва прикасаясь,
мы переехали под дождем вместе.
Чем сюрприз, за кирпичной стеной
Тыкать куст,
конфиденциальность тайного уголка
Коричнево-каштановые кирпичи
И вдруг меня посетила мысль
О боже, вот как их расстреляли,
Из ДНК чьих-то воспоминаний
Позаду стену,
І я потребую, щоб отримати, зараз
Я помню ее силуэт, резкий и тихий
Быть ни с чем, кроме мира и ее
Приятность, какое облегчение после стольких переездов
Помню, как быстро менялись интересы,
рад неожиданным новым путям
И насколько знакомым было это следующее
для меня, хороший друг
Для нее, як холодная мати
Charlie, Memorize
one thing into another, no pauses. But pauses.
a score about their cultural references
because - (it will not be you)
Rest can become an escape
What does success look like?
All drones were shot down by air defense systems
Open armpits/crotch pits. Traveling. Backspace soft palate.
Hey hey cheer up
horror is no different from a dream
Work backwards from there?
Putin is not popular
your question is philosophical
And your passport is just a piece of paper
Are there any options there?
They mentioned the killings of civilians
Let me fucking finish!
24 people were rescued from the rubble
They never left because they they send roots
What am I an expert in?
a skill to move attention
..a particular kind of attention..
-maybe not what they wanted
Response ability
Take a place of a killed writer a killed dancer
a killed musician
Randomly meticulously contrive a score about their cultural references
Then be surprised. Delight in novelty. Share it.
Show it to the world who is always eager to consume a new phrase
If no one shows up
It’s not personal
-not the best time, the best space, the best life
they are busy, they forgot, they don’t want to live like that-
Terrified and temporary
Rest
This is rest, not more. I’m doing enough.
I clawed my way through the void trying not to sell out. My privilege is paid for. By the student debt without generational wealth. By perennial emigrant trauma, always sensing isolation. By social anxiety brought by arrested social development. By avoiding social expectations, outside of the doctor/lawyer paradigm. By learning how to learn to be well.By undoing the webs of toxicity inside out. By learning the language of privilege- because without my voice no one cares to hear me scream.
I am enough
Rest
I’ve had a savior complex before I had anything. It was wired by seeing pain early on and needing to respond. It was a gift. Dad was a professional wrestler. Delusion of alcohol abuse has been his way to cope with the world where fighting is not the only way of being.
My mother, a practical woman. I’ve been taught to value practicality.
There is a time to fight, and a time to rest
When trauma hits we lean into our strengths.
Fight through adversity.
Rests can become escapes, escapes insulation.
Stay in your range. Back away from burn outs. Move towards pleasure.
Do less, feel more, do not forget if needed ten thousand saviors on any color horse shall come to fight before you can check out
This is WHY
- my spirit which is my body, sometimes my house, sometimes my relatives, friends, allies, the ocean and the land which isn’t mine but i belong to, my tribe whose territory whose people are being bombed right now,
because - (it won't be you)
I will do whatever it takes to protect that meaningful MINE by doing the practical shit
In a performance of a lifetime I will reach into my heart to pause in between the mines and the brain injuries
among the fields of sunflowers and wheat
in the wake of reparations and mass trials
between the victims and their victory
may they rest peacefully
I will consider from my privileged perspective what taking a rest might look like, and I will choose the least amount of effort to make the best possible choice
The price of being a martyr is resentment and emptiness. The price of being neutral is the delusion that it will never happen to you. Everything has its price.
Choose carefully.
All this and more
wondering
why are men so brutal
there
there
there- terrible
men
Armenia is attacked by Azerbaijan. 4 days. 200 dead.
a female soldier, mother of three, is raped,
her fingers are cut off, stuffed in her mouth,
her legs sawn off, her eyes gouged
She is naked and dead,
Failed by humanity
Ukraine
many basements are found in the de-occupied territories
where Russian men have tortured Ukrainians
nails twisted into kneecaps
rooms fit for two containing eight and a toilet
hoods and iron pipes
names, numbers, locations…
YOU- you pop up in my mind-
an attractive dancer from New york.. August, dance festival, Vienna..we are in a pool..You lament the lack of political awareness in Europe and in the same breath as I invite you to come to a meeting to discuss the war in Ukraine you say to your friend you have a show to go to instead, What show? Some shows don't matter, it’ll be fun…
a dance festival in Austria that mentions no war..why? There are always wars and refugees in europe..why is this one special?..we are helping, aren't we..we are against violence..we are beige..it’s my break from needing to be politically aware..
Fuck YOU, where ever you are right now..
do you see the current catch 22? It’s nuclear. It’s not a debate. It’s truly happening outside a gallery near you.
we ask not for social justice, or pleasure activism, or queer theory, or art funding, or health care, unschooling, or human rights- but for what makes America so toxic and schizophrenic - Guns
you can choose to use the phone as a phone, or use it to electrocute people. The choice is yours.
two queer women from Iran were sentenced to death by strangulation a few days ago. Another 22 year old girl gets arrested by Iran morality police. They use their morals to beat her into a coma until she dies. Then her brave friends chant and take their hijabs off at her funeral.
they march towards the administration building. They are shot, arrested, beaten,
their turn to confess to a sin of choice
you need to stop reading the news, says my girlfriend,
it only makes you unhappy. You cannot help them
in my phone conversation
fragments of grief mix with
big hug, big hug my love
-and more
my mother asks, what do they tell you? Meaning the soldiers i work with in a
Ukrainian hospital. She remembers my father’s PTSD after he returned from the Afghanistan war. I remember it too, I am small, eight, I do not understand why my father is scary, angry, and violent towards me. I begin to become a coward, I begin to think that there is something wrong with me. to feel unloved.
here’s one, mom.
this one is stuttering a lot. There’s a camera in front of us. A TV station is doing a piece
on veterans and PTSD. He just received his acupuncture treatment from me.
it’s very relaxing. But it’s also opening a door. He begins to tell them
about a buddy of his who he slept next to, sat next to in the trenches. They ate together.
he was his best friend. He got killed first. He is flooded by emotion, giving them something to show on their screens, letting it out, one syllable at a time.
-and more
some are silent. They lost their speech. They just type into their phones for now
their minds take them back to whomever they lost, to loud sounds
they shake like leaves, they sweat, they heads hurt, they can not sleep at all, they wake up
drenched and scared. Concussed. Brain fogged. Broken. Shattered.
many laugh it off. Some are tight like coiled tigers.
I am a boat in the sea of their suffering, sailing through waves and waves of unrequited hopes to unsee what was seen
PS. September 18th.
a raw day. A vulnerable day of empathy and water. sadness is everywhere noticing itself.
my phone rings. Bad timing, dad. It’s only been 6 months.
huge enveloping ever hungry ghost love of a child betrayed will never go away
a month ago It went like this: i am angry, why did you not…??
if you are upset and have demands don’t call me anymore.
ok, we have a deal
a split second a stone on the grave
he says he does not remember.
he undoes the things that happened.
alcoholics make the best excuses, for years
I wonder if all true ends are like that. Crunch-and the boundary of no forgiveness discovered. Snap - I forget you. Because you forgot me. Or was forgotten yourself. By yourself.
my demand could fit into a tangible telegram, if I would write one-
babushka died (Your mom) Please call me. I feel so terrible. I want you to care, at least about that.
your daughter.
I don’t even mention war.
Torn
The multiplicity of all directions
So who controls the controller?
A good question,
Be the light, a falcon in the sky
That's all there is,
A lone witness says
Before the take off
RUSALKA
Slippery tunnel,deep throated,
Sphincter swallowing snake
full of delicate marrow
inside her - enough mirrors to reflect the world
on the pink rose walls
Imagine pushing into them
How elastic
Will they bounce?
Surrounded by folded softness
Nest of hands, lips, dicks?, breasts, bellies
Gonna get inside
Do my part
Be an embryo
Merge with the thing
let go of competition
Of being a separate Being
Seduced,wanting
to be happily lost
Red clay, following
My psychic birth.
Uninterrupted by any authority
Incredibly burgundy
stepping in a dream
Come true
