BABOUSHKA

Return home after the Disaster This Poem is based on a movie : THE BABOUSHKA'S of CHERNOBYL

Rough, wrinkled, toothless, worn faces

decades of toil and blurred memories

the Baboushka's of Chernobyl

re-trace their steps to the toxic wasteland

they once called home

Human remains beneath the soil

shattered houses

dried-up farms

a tug in their souls lures them back

Born, nurtured in remote Russian villages

booted out by a nuclear blast

hundreds of them

mourn their motherland

They trudge to touch their earth

smell their withered potatoes

reacquaint with old photographs

survey the damage to their houses

Content to sense the familiar

they snub the dangers of their actions

hope, arduous work and visions

of newly planted gardens

sustains in a region

where the will to live

and die in their homeland is of utmost importance

Author's Note

This poem is based on a movie: THE BABOUSHKAS of CHERNOBYL
photo by Betty
Baboushka means elderly, old lady

Reviews

[Patricia]

This is a tearful poem. I have read many articles and seen many documentaries about Chernobyl and they always make me so sad and now I can add a poem to my list of reads. This is a powerful poem to a devastating accident but one we should never be allowed to forget. Our own genius can turn on us at any point and time. Hopefully we will eventually learn. The picture is beautiful and thank you for sharing this with us.

[Betty Hermelee]

Thank you Patricia, a thoughtful review! Let's be friends!

[Patricia Wedel]

dearest Betty... I find this very touching and the photo reminds me of
my Grandmother who was born and raised in Hungary. Julia raised her two daughters
and two sons in Hungary; however, she and her husband with four grown children...
migrated to the USA via Ellis Island and settled in West Virginia. Her husband and two older sons had been Cobblers in the Old Country. They opened up Shoe Shops in close towns near their Mothers home
in the Hills of West Virginia. Her youngest Son, Steve, my Father, opened a Shoe Shop in a town that
was close to all the family. My Father was 21 when he met my Mother 17 who worked across the street
at a Five and Dime store. That is where I was born in 1940 in an Apartment above the Shoe Shop.
It is amazing how people in Europe migrated to the USA legally. It is sad how the lovely Woman returned to her Home town in the Baboushkas to cherish and die with the "Soil" she loved. None of us know what we will face... we can only hope and pray we will be safe. It seems my Grandma wore a Baboushka (a Scarf) on her head. My father spoke and wrote Hungarian well, but I never learned the language.
I only remember a few words. tenderly, Pat

[Betty Hermelee]

Many thanks Pat; Actually I am a Hungarian too, both side of my family; I saw this movie about the Baboushkas, and it really hit me; so, the poem;
Happy New Year and stay safe, get your vaccine ASAP!!!

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Betty... amazing that you are Hungarian also (on both sides) My Mom and Dad had close friends who were born in Hungary... we all lived in Maryland in the USA. Before we moved to Maryland, my Father took a Job in Toledo, Ohio helping a Hungarian Preacher who had a Congregation of Hungarians.... We had free rent at a nice house next to the Church for a few years; I grew accustomed to hearing the Hungarian language which has an unusual sound to it when speaking. . My Mother loved the Strauss Waltz’s and I love the Danube River. Be Brave and Safe. Thanks for encouraging the Vaccine, and it means a lot to know you would not be afraid to take it. Yours truly, Pat

[Lorry]

Havent seen that one but did see one where mother took teenage daughter back after leaving as an infant. Emotional to see anyone's home laid to waste but showed the strength of people brought up in adversity and how that neighbourhood has vanished as it was dispersed to four corners of the country.
They may not have had much, but home will always be home.
Beautifully captured Betty.

[Betty Hermelee]

Ah Lorry, the best review!!! Thank you so much. I appreciate your attention to my poetry and my chapbook!! Fondly, Betty