As Time Goes By
By luigi_pagano
- 3693 reads
As time goes by memories fade
and events tend to be forgotten.
Who does now recall
the innocently named Little Boy,
descending at speed
from high in the sky,
in a great ball of fire?
The hibakusha do.
They are the people
on whom a black rain
left an indelible mark
at 8.15 on the morning
of the 6th August 1945
and yet survived.
Their testimony tells
of the fate that befell
a tranquil city
on a hot and cloudless day:
the buzz of a plane,
a flash of transcendent power,
a mushroom cloud.
Seventy years have passed
since the day of that cataclysm;
bells toll in remembrance
of the moment when time stood still
before the catastrophe ensued.
A reminder of the grim potential
that technology possesses.
© Luigi Pagano 2015
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Comments
And this reminds too; but
And this reminds too; but also brings to mind some of the viscious hatred that is shedding bloodshed around the world today, and the attempts to stop it that sometimes go wrong, or are questioned in themselves. Rhiannon
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I can't imagine the
I can't imagine the devastation and horror that followed this awful event but this poem puts me close to it. Well done Luigi.
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'A reminder of the grim
'A reminder of the grim potential
that technology possesses.' - and the itching to try out that technology is evil. Well done, Luigi.
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You summed up the horror
You summed up the horror completely in this piece of writing Luigi. The scars it must have left would have been devistating and unimaginable.
Very well put.
Jenny. xx
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This is very well done Luigi,
This is very well done Luigi, thank you!
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This is so good. Very
This is so good. Very strangely I find myself in a cabin by a lake in Vermont having just read an ancient Boston Magazine article that was knocking about giving the history of the building. This place was built by an engineer/chemist who developed weapons and was so traumatised by his role in the Hiroshima destruction that he altered his life, dedicated it to peace and built a Hobbit/bomb shelter/shrine in the grounds. All very odd and atmospheric and strange to be here tonight. Feeling haunted and sad.
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The mention of the moment
The mention of the moment just before it happened is poignant. Well done!
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You mention "the grim
You mention "the grim potential that technology possess"...
Actually, it's the grim intentions of those who think they can gain by dominating the rest of the world that we must worry about...
In 1945, there was only the '1' that had the capability... and the '1' could do as it pleased with no self-repercussions...
Now there are more than '1', and '1' doesn't seem to realise that the '1'-sidedness of 1945 no longer exists and continues to play with fire... the fire of Armageddon...
Someone once once sang "when will they ever learn'...
The grim reality is that the answer may be NEVER...
Wonderful poem!!!
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