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