The threat of war with Russia has been with me all my life. In a nutshell: The Soviet Union was formed in 1922, the year my father was born. It sent missiles to Cuba in 1962, when I was 4, resulting in the Cuban Missile Crisis. We had community nuclear drills. Some wealthy families build bomb shelters. In autumn 1983, when I was 24, the world was saved from potential nuclear disaster, which would have occurred due to systems not being able to tell the difference between an exercise and a real attack. Tensions were high all fall in DC. I remember going on my morning bike ride the day we were told there was a threat, and watching the sun rise, wondering if it was the last time. Thankfully, the sun did rise the next morning, and Russians and Americans were there to see it. The Soviet Union was dissolved in 1991, one of the years I was working in Europe. Russian and American colleagues all expressed relief. Crisis averted, we thought. The next year I went to New Year’s Eve in Prague. There was such joy in the streets. Now, an invasion of Ukraine. None of us want our children going on their last bike ride or worrying it will be their last.

This year, on Feb. 22, 2022, I wrote this poem to Ukraine.