Hiroshima
We sliced the chrysanthemum
Off its stalk and left it
Naked in the sun.
Over the ashes,
Our victory was hailed.
Beneath, my ancestors lay buried.
Voice from the Unborn
You promised me, eons ago,
A world, free of battlefields, soldiers, children
Abandoned in fear and hunger.
You offered me Hope, again and again.
A world, you said, where we will stand
Hand in hand, beyond color, religion, gender, age,
One race. One humanity.
You promised me a world
Free of poison in oceans, earth and air.
“You are the future”, you told me,
Every election year.
“Come and be born in this world I will
Create for you.”
My brothers and sisters who believed you
Are now old men and women, and they wait.
They wait.
Listen to my voice, your unborn child.
Turn Hope into Reality,
Future into Today.
Stop using me, your unborn child
For promises and meaningless rhetoric.
The future is now. I can’t wait any longer.
The future is now. I want to be born.
Today.
frances kakugawa
This has been the plea of loving ethical people forever, don’t you think, Frances? What goes wrong, I wonder.
I wish I knew, Elva. Sometimes I think the need for change has to enter our private homes before it makes an impact in people. Or we were created with these flaws in us and this is all we’re capable of being. Sat, isn’t it?
Reblogged this on Heather Meehan Weblog.