Fallen Snow

A free-verse poem about the bombing of Hiroshima.

It's so pretty,
It's snowing.

It was August,
It was in Hiroshima,
It was burned,
Into our minds,
Forever, the crimes,
Of a genocide,
Of a massacre,
Had been,
Is still,
And will always be,
Burning to this day.

Forever to haunt us,
Of the times past,
Of the portraits of War,
Of the metal,
Of the drop,
Of the flash,
Of the cries,
Of the roar,
Of the silence,
Of the nothingness.

We shall forever,
Live in the shadow,
Of the departed,
Of the deceased,
Of the flames,
Of the suffering,
Of the end.