The Russian Emigrees Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Russian refugees

When the war ended in 1945 and the German army
surrendered when the local Nazis were arrested
the whores had had their hair shorn; peace arrived
with stark poverty and need.
My mother got a newspaper round, and the pay was
negligible, but she got bags of old newspaper, pressed
looking like bricks and warming when autumn came
with cold evenings
On our rounds (I was my mother's little helper) met
a Russian mother and daughter dressed in old clothes
on the way to a café that gave them leftovers, probably
the only meal for the day.
They were the flotsam of war and had ended up in
the backdoor of Europa, they spoke no local language
but individual people were kind to them and often
brought wood to warm their cold rooms.
When we met them, Mother waved and said hello
with a winning smile, they said hello also I think
this little gesture warmed their starved, lonely hearts
destitute as they were and far from home.
Home! Yes, in the end, it's the place we all want to go.