In war-weary Kyiv, wounded Ukrainian veterans turn epic poetry into
living testimony
[February 21, 2026]
By ILLIA NOVIKOV
KYIV, Ukraine (AP) — Sitting in a circle the day before opening night,
Ukrainian war veterans and drama students took turns reading their lines
from a script that traveled centuries to reach them.
At the center was Olha Semioshkina, directing the group through her
adaptation of “Eneida” by Ivan Kotliarevskyi — an 18th-century Ukrainian
reimagining of Virgil's “Aeneid.” This production, though, had a
modern-day message about resilience in the face of the war that's
nearing its fourth year since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.
The actors — men and women in their 20s to 60s — included Ukrainian
military veterans who had returned from the front with amputations,
severe burns and sight loss. Others had endured war on the homefront.
Many had never set foot on a stage before this play.
The production was created by Theater of Veterans, an organization
founded by members of Ukraine’s Territorial Defense Forces that provides
theatrical training and stage opportunities for former service members
as part of their reintegration and recovery.
It took more than a year to prepare for Thursday’s premiere at Kyiv’s
National Academic Molodyy Theatre.
“We knew the guys had just come back from rehabilitation, and we had to
start from the very beginning,” Semioshkina said.
“We spent about four months simply learning to communicate, to fall, to
group, to roll, to get together,” she said. “Then we began developing
the body, taking off prosthetics and learning to exist without them.”
The 51-year-old director’s concept was simple: “Every man on stage is
Aeneas. Every woman on stage is Dido.”
In Virgil’s epic, Aeneas wanders after the fall of Troy, searching for a
new homeland. In Kotliarevskyi’s satirical adaptation, the Trojan hero
becomes a Cossack, rowdy and earthy.
On Kyiv’s stage, Aeneas wears prosthetic limbs and bears scars from the
war that began with Russia's Feb. 24, 2022, invasion of Ukraine.
“Aeneas is a hero who goes through a lot in search for his land,”
Semioshkina said. “He preserves humor, passion, he falls, he goes
through horrors, drinks and parties. But he is a human, and he has a
goal — to find his place and preserve his family.”
She draws parallels between the veterans who endured combat and the
character they play on stage. “Aeneas is the one who went to war. Yes,
he returned mutilated, broken," she said, but the actors bringing this
adaptation to life "are learning to live” again.
Where myth and reality converge
During rehearsal, Yehor Babenko, a veteran of Ukraine’s Border Service
who suffered severe burns early in the Russian invasion, delivered a
line with a grin: “Feeling burned out at work? We have a lot in common.”
Later in the play, his monologue also hit close to home as he spoke
about fire taking his hands, ears and nose. “I won’t be able to show
children a trick with a missing finger,” he says. “Maybe the one when
all 10 fingers disappear.”
The opportunity to perform onstage, Babenko said, has been a healing
journey.
“For me, theater is both psychological and physical rehabilitation. I’ve
noticed I feel my body better, feel more confident in public, express my
thoughts better.”
For Babenko, the story of Aeneas resonates beyond the stage. “It’s about
searching for your land,” he said. “And for our country, that’s very
relevant now.”
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Viewers react to the premiere of an adaptation of Ivan
Kotliarevskyi’s “Eneida,” a Ukrainian reimagining of Virgil’s “Aeneid,”
performed by war veterans, many of whom sustained severe injuries in
combat during Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, in Kyiv,
Ukraine, Thursday, Feb. 19, 2026. (AP Photo/Efrem Lukatsky)
 Breaking character to tell their
own stories
The play’s final act departed from epic poetry altogether as the
actors stepped forward to tell their own stories — about combat
injuries, lost brothers in arms, displacement and life under
occupation.
One veteran described losing his leg in a drone strike and using a
machine gun as a crutch to reach cover. A female actor recounted
living under Russian occupation with her two daughters.
Another, who volunteered as a medic, first in 2014, when Russia
illegally annexed Crimea and pro-Russian forces captured parts of
Ukraine’s Donetsk and Luhansk regions, and again after the 2022
Russian invasion, spoke of returning to war in her 60s.
Andrii Onopriienko, who lost his sight in a Russian artillery strike
near Avdiivka, in the Donetsk region, in 2023, narrated much of the
performance in a deep, resonant voice. At one point he sang: “Let
our enemies dig up holes, install crosses, and lie down on their
own,” as the rest of the cast joined in.
Onopriienko initially refused to join the project. “I didn’t
understand what I would do on stage blind,” he said. He later was
persuaded that there would be a role for him.
“It’s positivity, laughter, support,” he said of rehearsals. “No
matter what mood you come in, you leave with a big smile; Here you
distract yourself from the present. You enter another world.”
Despite war, the show must go on
Onstage, prosthetic legs and arms were removed and put back on as
part of the play's visual language. Long metal rods doubled as
swords, oars and crutches — used as both an artistic instrument and
a tool to help actors with amputations keep balance.
The war intruded even before the curtain rose on Thursday. An
announcement asked the audience to follow the usual theater protocol
and silence their phones — then warned that in case of an air raid,
they should head to the basement shelter. If a blackout occurred, it
added, the show would pause for the backup power generators to be
turned on.
As Babenko delivered his monologue minutes before the performance
ended, the power did go out.
Semioshkina stepped onto the stage with a flashlight, followed by
others holding flashlights. Babenko delivered his lines in the beam
of the improvised spotlight. The audience, some quietly weeping,
some laughing through tears, stayed.
When the last monologue ended and the curtain fell and rose again,
the cast was met with a standing ovation. As they bowed a second
time, the electricity returned, and the applause swelled.
For Semioshkina, the message of veterans on stage extends beyond
epic poetry and the theater walls.
“I would like to send a message to all veterans who are sitting at
home: Come out,” she said. “Come out. You can do something. Live.
Don’t close yourself off. Live every single minute.”
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