War
Pearl Harbor
Under the rising sun
The enemy came
Wearing my face.
Hiroshima
We sliced the chrysanthemum
Off its stalk
And left it naked in the sun
Victory
Over the ashes of Hiroshima
Our victory was hailed.
Beneath, my ancestors lay buried.
Dear Frances: War is never good. Thanks for your words that get the heart of why! Aloha, Eloise
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