'The Big Boom'

Five months after a Danvers chemical plant exploded, destroying part of the town, Riverside Elementary School students recall a frightening night in words and pictures

DANVERS -- A fifth-grader who witnessed the destruction of a bakery where she had bought gingerbread cookies with her grandmother wrote a poem describing the store where "boards stand where windows once were."

A kindergartner whose father, a firefighter, rushed to the scene of the blast, drew a tangled series of squiggles and dots. "The dots are chemicals," the 6-year-old explained.

A second-grader who has not been able to sleep alone since the blast drew a picture of a factory engulfed in red and purple flames.

Five months after an explosion at a chemical plant destroyed part of their town, the children of Riverside Elementary School in Danvers have turned their nightmares and recollections into art.

Unlike the dry government reports documenting the disaster, their 26-page collection of drawings and poetry, titled "The Big Boom," provides a startlingly raw view of the blast as seen though the eyes of children. It also reveals the way the explosion lingers with them.

In a poem by fourth-grader Corey Crossley, titled "The Blast from the Past," sirens scream and windows break.

"The sound and the shaking filled me with fright/my family was screaming as we ran into the night," Corey wrote. "Fireballs were flying/high in the sky/I was in shock, too scared to cry."

In a drawing by second-grader Erica Petrillo, a girl stands near a building labeled "pizza place" and "propane."

"Explosion," Erica wrote above the image. "I was so sad and scared because my cousin lives on that same street and for all the houses that got broken."

The project took shape in the chaotic days after the plant, which housed ink producer CAI Inc. and paint maker Arnel Co., exploded in a fireball at 2:45 a.m. on Nov. 22, 2006, the day before Thanksgiving. Seventy homes were damaged, and 400 residents were displaced, including many of the 330 children at Riverside, which is about a mile from the blast site.

"As soon as it happened, that's all they could talk about," said Kimberly Clapp, the school social worker. "They needed an outlet."

Clapp started weekly counseling sessions in the school library, during which she gathered 10 or so children at a time to talk about the blast, which investigators believe was triggered by a buildup of flammable solvents. The children, she learned, were having difficulty sleeping, were sleeping in their clothes so they could flee another blast, or were seeking refuge in their parents' beds.

Using a Red Cross curriculum designed for young survivors of the Sept. 11 attacks, she gave them an assignment.

"I said I just want you to write about how you feel," Clapp said.

Clutching crayons and magic markers, about two dozen students created drawings and poems about anxiety and hope.

Tyler Vesey, 6, the firefighter's son, drew a house and shaded it red. Recently, he stood in the school library, pointed at the image, and said, "That's the house that exploded." He added with some relief, "I couldn't see the fire, only my family, 'cause they're taller than me."

Several works recall the moment when the children were roused by the explosion.

"When it happened I had no clue of what it was," wrote fourth-grader Ali Deleidi. "My 13-year-old brother slept through it. If my nana wasn't screaming 'Call the cops,' my brothers would have slept through the whole thing."

Will Sanborn, 7, a second-grader, drew a more placid image of two houses -- which he said belong to him and his friend -- bathed in blue and green. The caption reads, "The explosion was very loud and scary," but Will said that drawing the images "made me feel better."

"I just wanted to draw it because I wanted to let my feelings out," Will said.

Clapp said she has no grand plans for the volume, other than keeping it in the school library, and perhaps making it available at the Town Hall. She said the project was as much about making the art as distributing it.

"My hope was that they would feel better after getting their feelings out," Clapp said. "And I think that's what happened."

Today, 43 of the 70 homes that were damaged are still unoccupied, and many of those may never be rebuilt. About 100 people remain displaced, crowded in with relatives or living in hotel rooms.

Brooke Moody, 8, who drew the picture of a burning factory, is among those who have moved. She now lives across town, and said she hopes that years from now, children who never lived through the blast will take comfort from "The Big Boom."

"I want them to know it's not going to happen again," she said. "Maybe a fire, but not another bomb, because that was a mistake. And my brother hopes the same thing."

Michael Levenson can be reached at mlevenson@globe.com.