meekness as violence

One atom bomb drops,
And another.
A nation defined
in chaos
Wounds that take
Aeons to heal
Generations of questions
Hang
In silence, we ask
the difference between
loss
and surrender
Black rain floods our oceans
Science sectioned from soul
The memories of
seventy five summers
live heavy
in our bones
I tried to write prose
But the horror was
Unwordable
the BOMB it still resounds
the question over continents
Nuclear Weapon Yield
is a Wikipedia page
like yielding a crop,
Yielding destruction.
Seventy five years
is not all that long
the organism of memories
pulses
both in bodies and in fields
to claim separation
from all this war torn trauma
is a cataclysmic error, because
The bombing never stopped
Now we bomb with words through ether
through means more subtle less visible
manipulating magnetic fields
We yield subatomic devastation
with every word of judgment
and every smile we fake
Violence can be nuanced
Violence can look nice
It's easy to say we're not violent
and deny the deadly faculty inside
hold the monsters to our backs in fear
and be docile and timid and meek
And it is this meekness that
echoes with discord
and makes eyes
that glaze and turn away
from the miracle and mess of life
as the hand pulls back the lever and
drops bombs and
bombs
and bombs