Narovlya

i) reflection

a small quiet place, in the gomel region,

good-hearted people gathered round

on one fine spring morning, in narovlya,

a ghostly dust engulfed the town

as the children played, I'll remember that day

as the music played for the rest of my life

ii) may day

it's the first day of may and all of our childeren

have gone out to play, it's our celebration,

it's tradition, for us all

our flags and our banners hang over our doors,

in the pripyat we're swimming,

sunbathers sleep on while around us metals fall

town bosses said it was safe, don't panic their plea

but rumours they quickly spread that all was not well

who could tell?

fallout you don't see

iii) evacuation

the 6th of may one morning

we were summoned to the school

our children must be moved away,

for how long, nobody knew

we told each house throughout the night,

the town it didn't sleep

mothers, fathers, all were weeping

as they watched their children leave

iv) emptiness

helpless we stand, united in grief

dazed and confused, we cry out in disbelief

our lands now destroyed, we look towards the skies

with outstretched hands we try to grasp the lies,

and through it all.... we were never told the truth

cruel that you are, we have no time for hate

fools that you are, from the comfort of your state

what became of our beloved Belarus?

what's become of our own flesh and blood?

what's to become of those you left behind?

what right did you have to leave us here to die?

and through it all.... we never knew the truth....

v) clean up

september came upon us, white soldiers they appeared

washing down our houses, all surface soil was cleared

we watched from open windows as they wore respirators here

they covered our grounds in asphalt removing every tree in fear

no picking mushrooms, the forest was out of bounds

no fishing in the rivers, contamination all around

and though the sun was shining there was danger everywhere

as lorries moved our people, our hearts would always be there

(until we meet again - my home Narovlya)

vi) epilogue

although we've resettled I re-live those years,

I dream of my home town but cannot hold back all those fears,

all of those tears

what price do our children truly pay in the end?

do they have a future?

I hope in my sorrow their scars will heal, their hearts will mend