I have mentioned previously and written a little about the year I spent in Ukraine, circa 1999 - 2000.
It was a glorious time and year. I spent hours walking the tree lined streets of Kyiv. I whiled away days, lounging in the British Council sun room, reading literature. Hours running along the mighty Dniper and over and down the hallowed hills of the city.
What remains for me, is a very profound sense of a people, a society close to nature. Even in the city, people were connected to the land, their ancestral towns, their farms, the soil. I also remember well, the first soft, warm rays of the sun, spring breaking and everyone heading out for a walk down the large central boulevard Krischatchek (closed on weekends, only pedestrians) embracing the ever of nature’s giving nature. It was a time of renewal, rejuvenation and a moment of respite from their ever suffering existence.
I leave you with a poem I wrote during the sojourn in Kyiv.
A Spring Message
Spring has sprung.
The graves grow up
in color
and it is as if
the days are longer,
so light they step.
Even Mr. Berkowitz
standing out
in the morning sun
and bird song,
has a slight smile on,
as he leans on his cane,
all that remains
of his father’s sturdiness.
Spring has sprung.
The parks are full
of hopping, hungry birds,
baby carriages,
and it is as if
the monuments of the long dead
were about to step off
the pedestal, we’ve put them on
and dance alive.
Even Mr. Berkowitz
like the weather itself,
has something to say
about being alive, green, wet.
“Thank God it’s spring.”
he says,
“and I can forget”.
April 10, 2001
Kyiv, Ukraine