Hiroshima

Holes

Light

Electric shock

Fright.

Ghost.

Skin hanging like loose clothes.

I hold onto it, as protectively as I would hold onto a newborn baby

I forget all happiness I have ever felt

 

It’s funny how we don’t see a person

The human mind just can’t comprehend

that I have trodden another path

Words are useless

Imagine pain, tightness,

I haven’t cried for 50 years

 

So few people understood

And when they did they

Just walked along the river but on the other side

She did.  My sister-in-law.

She understood

Her signature disdain synonymous with war

In its intensity

 

She was a bright, acerbic stain

She got it.

 

The irony of her light,

The insult it cast on me

 

I can’t walk past a river any more,

Any river

Because once I saw a horse in the water,

Whose bladder kept it afloat

 

And that cascade of bodies,

floating

As though someone had actually

thrown them in

As though a child had just dropped a

fistful of jelly babies

Written at an Anthony Owen workshop June 2015

https://antonyowenpoetry.wordpress.com/vitae-2/