Hiroshima

The mushroom cloud in the blue sky
Stayed smack in the center.
The little girl looked at it in surprise,
Made a face, and
Threw a rock straight at it;
Like an arrow hitting the tormentor.

The cloud got angry for sure,
Didn’t look at her in pretence;
But turned the rock back in force.
Like a spear
That tears and slices the flesh.
But missed by her sixth sense.

The cloud was quite a hunter
Chased her from side to side.
Like a deer in fright, she ran
And cried out:  ‘Maa, paa, brother Tetsuo.
Save me, save me!’
Only the wind howled, torrents of rain came alongside.

Tired and helpless, she fell
In the mother earth’s womb, meekly.
Slumber, slumber, in deep slumber.
The cloud climbed down the stairs
The face of a man!  You, I, he, she, and
Poisoned her body and mind mightily.

Our future children will not speak,
Our future children will not see the wonders of the world,
Our future children will not listen to
Laughter, melodies so sweet!

Our future children will inherit
A body that functions not,
Our future children will be bequeathed with
A mind without sense and sensibility,
Our future children will be bestowed with
Diseases deadly aplenty!

WE ARE HUMANS, AND
WE ENDOWED OUR FUTURE SELVES
WITH  FUTURE THIS BRIGHT!

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