GOODBYE YOUNG RUSSIANS - poem
At Halifax, welcoming friends await children
from Chernobyl, in Belarus.
Some say, “Lucky to visit Nova Scotia,
get away from that awful radiation.”
Our visitors fished in the Stewiacke
River, licked huge ice cream
cones, visited the zoo, and I remember
muffled sobs by a maple tree
where Igor held Elena close. "Don't cry,"
you said, brotherly arms surrounding,
as a family of loons
dived for food in a quiet bay.
Six weeks of summer-fun melted away.
Later at the airport, more tears
and hugs. "Come again," we said
in the melee of a waiting room.
Now, I close my eyes and see Elena's
hair, golden across the field, brother Igor
shouting "Friend!" to me, and smiling.
(C) Richard L. Provencher