I first read about Viktor and Yuri on The Rebelution site.
These two sweet boys have spent far too long alone, unloved, spending their days in a crib. And then, there seemed to be hope-a family had come forward for them! But, too many snags in the paperwork set things back, and this family, no matter how much they want too, can no longer claim these little boys as their own.
And so they wait, not even knowing what love is. Here is an excerpt from the post about them:
"It’s midnight in America. As we lay sleeping, the sun is dusting a half-curtained window far away. If you looked through that window you would see a line of cribs. Little heads are slowing raising. In the midst of these children are two tiny boys. One named Yuri and one named Viktor. Yuri crawls to the edge of his crib and pulls himself up to watch the rays of sun tumble to the floor. Viktor remains seated, but he clutches the bars of the crib and moans, rocking back and forth in his childhood prison.
The sun is a cruel beauty to both of them. It lightens the trees and overgrown grass in the yard; it lightens beyond—beyond where they will never see.
The sunshine flaunts the world in front of their faces, taunting them of joy and love and laughter they will never have. Taunting them about the roads that lead elsewhere—roads that lead away from barred prisons for seven-year-olds.
Viktor cries out into the empty stillness. No one answers—of course. He cries out again—yelling for the dream of a rescue that has nearly faded from his mind. He shifts his twisted ankles beneath him and stares out the window at the world that disabled Ukrainian children are shut out from.
Yuri lays back down in his crib. His sweet eyes become vacant as he fixes them on the ceiling. Nobody would know what he was thinking—if he even is. There is nothing to think in this place. And, by the time you are nearly seven, you certainly should have run out of hope. By that age you aren’t the cute kid with shining eyes who captures hearts with dazzling smiles. In fact, it’s a small miracle if you know how to smile anymore. No, by this age, your body is becoming twisted from needed but never received surgeries and therapies and lack of food. Your ribs show like you have spent your years in a concentration camp…and, in a way, you have. Eyes, glimmering with the last dying flecks of hope, sweep over the window and the lengthening morning. Another day has begun."
Please share their stories and help these boys be matched with a family. They deserve to know love just as much as any other child.
Learn more about these boys, their special needs, and how you can help, here.
These two sweet boys have spent far too long alone, unloved, spending their days in a crib. And then, there seemed to be hope-a family had come forward for them! But, too many snags in the paperwork set things back, and this family, no matter how much they want too, can no longer claim these little boys as their own.
"It’s midnight in America. As we lay sleeping, the sun is dusting a half-curtained window far away. If you looked through that window you would see a line of cribs. Little heads are slowing raising. In the midst of these children are two tiny boys. One named Yuri and one named Viktor. Yuri crawls to the edge of his crib and pulls himself up to watch the rays of sun tumble to the floor. Viktor remains seated, but he clutches the bars of the crib and moans, rocking back and forth in his childhood prison.
The sun is a cruel beauty to both of them. It lightens the trees and overgrown grass in the yard; it lightens beyond—beyond where they will never see.
The sunshine flaunts the world in front of their faces, taunting them of joy and love and laughter they will never have. Taunting them about the roads that lead elsewhere—roads that lead away from barred prisons for seven-year-olds.
Viktor cries out into the empty stillness. No one answers—of course. He cries out again—yelling for the dream of a rescue that has nearly faded from his mind. He shifts his twisted ankles beneath him and stares out the window at the world that disabled Ukrainian children are shut out from.Yuri lays back down in his crib. His sweet eyes become vacant as he fixes them on the ceiling. Nobody would know what he was thinking—if he even is. There is nothing to think in this place. And, by the time you are nearly seven, you certainly should have run out of hope. By that age you aren’t the cute kid with shining eyes who captures hearts with dazzling smiles. In fact, it’s a small miracle if you know how to smile anymore. No, by this age, your body is becoming twisted from needed but never received surgeries and therapies and lack of food. Your ribs show like you have spent your years in a concentration camp…and, in a way, you have. Eyes, glimmering with the last dying flecks of hope, sweep over the window and the lengthening morning. Another day has begun."
Please share their stories and help these boys be matched with a family. They deserve to know love just as much as any other child.
Learn more about these boys, their special needs, and how you can help, here.