Low Hanging Fruit
Nov 2, 2025
Ukrainian Poet Interviewed by Anam Tariq and Kalvin M. Madsen
Poet and writer Chainka views her work, and indeed her own life, as a continuous project of intense honesty. Hailing from Ukraine, her voice is marked by an unflinching exploration of human emotion, from sadness and desperation to profound resilience. Her newest collection, on cloud 9 and falling, delves into the fragile intersections of war, peace, love, and loss, a subject deeply informed by her personal experience of the Russian occupation of her hometown.
Chainka, who writes fluently in both English and Ukrainian, attributes the pervasive theme of "home" in her writing to a fundamental loss caused by the conflict in her country.
"I am from Ukraine, from a small town, and I’ve had a happy, sweet childhood up until the war broke out," she shares. The occupation of her town by Russian forces left a deep scar. "If you get into my work, you notice that I very often come back to the topic of home, and it’s exactly for the reason that I feel I’ve lost one."
Chainka describes the beginning of the occupation in her hometown of Kherson as a truly horrific situation. Without a substantial military presence, the city was swiftly taken. For over two weeks, the town was cut off from vital supplies, creating a terrifying "trap" where Russian soldiers were ubiquitous and food was scarce. Despite the terror, the necessity of art proved undeniable. "Which is funny tho," she recalls, "because yes, I was still writing my short fiction stories and poems."
The decision to leave was a perilous miracle. Chainka's parents quickly realized the situation wouldn't improve, and they packed what they could. Driving through Russian checkpoints was a terrifying ordeal, a journey she remembers nothing about due to the shock, knowing that many other cars had been shot.
When asked about writing directly about the war, Chainka is clear that her work is not patriotic in a celebratory sense. She articulates her frustration and disappointment in a recent line:
"i want to be patriotic; to write a glorious poem / i want to be patriotic; to be loyal / but i can’t find the words / to describe how everything hurts."
For Chainka, the war is a central point of her art because, as she puts it, "war is just a human nature." It always has been and always will be.
She asserts that art should be neither framed nor tamed. She has no fear of how people will interpret or judge her words, believing that "people will judge anyway." She simply writes and allows readers to take what they will from it—be it hate, love, or feeling.
Chainka's writing process is deliberately loose and intuitive. "I don’t have any rituals, I just go with the flow and when something gets in my mind, I get it out on the paper. That’s pretty much it."
Her inspiration, however, arrives in waves, fueled by her closest supporters—her mom and dad—and her favorite writer, Remarque. People, late-night car rides, and even boredom all serve as muses.
Technically, her favorite poetic device is repetition. Her poetry is often "built on playing with it," demonstrating how a slight shift in intonation, or the simple change from a comma to a period, can dramatically alter the emotional and semantic landscape of a line.
Chainka's core ambition as a poet is simple: to make a connection.
"The most, of course, I want my words to get into people’s heads," she says. "I hope and I wish, that there will be someone who will read my line and say, 'God yes. This describes me so well.' And it will inevitably make them feel like there is another person in this huge world who they could confide in. Like they are not alone."
Looking ahead, she knows her family cannot return to Kherson, which is currently "really damaged" and largely deserted. She sees her future as a writer tied to her convictions: "talking what I feel strongly about; helping people, advocating for them, and, finally, changing world for the better."