The wind stops.
the waves are far away.
“On August 6 in 1945, the a-bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. I was a fourteen year old student. But I didn’t go to school. Instead. I worked in a factory.”
So writes Yasuhiko Shigemoto at the end of his second haiku collection, commemorating the bombing of Hiroshima 74 years ago.
The poems within are devastating, haunting, and viscerally beautiful.
This is why poetry exists.
A-Bomb Dome photo credit
When the sun peers into the sea
It doesn’t see itself at first
But when the reflection is clear
The sun is riding on the waves.
I wrote this in 5th grade and I’m still kinda proud of it even though reflections need light or whatever and scientifically it doesn’t make any sense BUT there’s this weird place where writing takes you where things don’t have to make sense to make you feel good.