Janel E.
Yelp
'A white road.
A white road in Hiroshima.
Mother walked that scorching road
Barefooted,
Working clothes all torn.
And I, who had been born
Just 40 days before,
Held in those arms,
Gazed up with eyes of innocence
To where the deep blue sky
Stretched wide, she said.
The white mushroom cloud
Moved like a sea slug,
Growing wide, and wider still.
Mid-summer phantoms
And those hateful things
That happened long ago
Are all so infinitely sad.
The image of that single
Long white road
Lies in the corner of my mother's heart
And mine
And does not even try do die.
The road stretched on and on;
An endless road,
White, dust-covered, soiled by grief.
The road began that moment,
The road without an end,
The road we've walked without a pause,
For fourteen years.
Mother is tired.
And I am tired.
And when beset by waves
Of sadness and exhaustion
She lay a while to rest.
Her tears fell on my face
And left their patterns in the dust.
A white road.
A white road in Hiroshima.'
~
'That autumn
In Hiroshima where it was said
"For seventy-five years nothing will grow"
New buds sprouted
In the green that came back to life
Among the charred ruins
People recovered
Their living hopes and courage'
~
The above words, so eloquently written, commenced and concluded my experience at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, respectively. As I reflect on my time in Japan, the descriptions, images, artifacts, and resilience of Hiroshima, have pierced the essence of my being. Avoiding redundancy, I will not add to what others here have described so beautifully, of the Museum and surrounding Memorial Park. This place, this experience, those words, have compelled me to share what will resonate with me for the rest of my days.
27.07.15