a poem about going back to Bieniakonie

„Człowiek się rodzi/nie na łzy i uśmiechy,/ale dla dobra/bliźnich swoich braci.” My mother was born over there  I point to the village just out of sight  behind the birch sycamore and pine tree  to Bieniakonie where Iza you were born in  1935 and from where you were taken in the middle  of the night five years later.  Straight Main Street M11. Marysa’s grave.  In the lee if the church.  Pure white church with faded sills and  ruby cross windows. Three shops on one side. Ozon.  Other side bank and general store.  Everyone speaks Russian Belarusian and t here are still many Poles. Older  than I man and me chat briefly.  My wife’s in there. We smile and nod and he walks on.  The school. Clean, beautifully precise and welcoming  and flowers and pictures of ww2/Great Patriotic War on the entrance walls.  Three staff talked to us none heard of  Masewicz but the original school  where she taught was burned down in  1986 the museum was locked  chickens dogs contented tended  not edges wire fences round each  garden kept organized, quiet,  to each other respect. Dignity.  Iza, here is my beloved Magda my wife,  speaking Russian and Polish to Belarusian, Lithuanian,  Russian and Polish. Such gratitude to have seen this dignified,  welcoming, land-centered village earth  and forest fortress. Such earth too everything grows.  and it feels like a full circle.  So often wanted to be here.  To feel the ground that my  mother first felt to make up for  the years of loss can I see a photo of  baby well baby is here now and leaning  against the leeward side of  St John the Baptist where you  were baptized. Certainly  we’ve walked past the house  where you were taken home to  before you home was taken away  and never given back. You gave birth to  eyes, hands and heart and  now we are back after 86 years.  We have returned. We are back we have crossed the border. We will never forget any of you „Człowiek się rodzi nie na łzy i uśmiechy, ale dla dobra bliźnich swoich braci.”