Hiroshima

The city is lacquered with its past.

Pavement squares record the distance from the epi-centre

Shadows imprinted on the streets

 

There is a vortex in the eyes of older citizens

as they go about their business

half a century later.

 

A black hole which draws all to the dark

Memories are scorpions crawling out from corners

dragging cloying cobwebs with them.

 

The museum –

A board game of horror

as you step through the minutes and hours of August 6th, 1945.

 

A tapestry

of pain, fear, disbelief

and I am only a tourist viewing the past

 

Despite all this,

they endured

Stoically rebuilt their homes, parks, shrines

 

And still the bombs are tested

cataclysmic effectiveness guaranteed

while we set doves free in packed sports stadiums

 

What pure white light will push back the fear

in our souls?

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