Hiroshima

No siren or red flag,

high from blue sky without warning.

I should have read each 

little sign, but

June began

bright, so

hazy – 

bluebells 

untouched in the garden,

air filled with 

     song from summer birds –

curlews, skylarks and

                        bold blackbirds.

In between Lino and floorboards,

our frantic feet would

slide through time;

and imagined 

                yours on tarmac about to

                       to leap out through

             thick clouds.

High from

blue sky without 

warning,

one 

     single ring,

                your frantic voice,

                      shaped one single cloud

champignon,

          and felt that bright light,

                       blasted heart –

one final blow without 

warning. 

Nat Hall 2017

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4 Comments

Filed under 2017, 60N, blogging, colours, earth, geopoetics, humanity, images, life, light, literature, metasaga, poet, poetry, scotland, shetland, shore, spirit

4 responses to “Hiroshima

  1. Down among the dead where ash imprint scraffito stain remains
    to this glorious day! Befall us all, colliding air bringing particles of glitter dust, still caught in the folds of your shroud.
    Then we lay under branches sweet, ones from childhood among cherry blossom wreathes, moving gently in a summer breeze

  2. Great, Nat. Catharsis.

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