Painting Hiroshima – August 6, 1945

Memorial at Hiroshima

When I was a brush, a crude-tufted, rough brush,
I pulled myself around the sky,
painting mushroom clouds
and streaks of fire. On the ground
I spilled chemicals to burn the skin. 

Today if I were a brush, I would be a fine sable brush
and go to these cities and paint emergency medical stations
with a huge red cross, deep shelters with steps going down. 

But if I could go back to August 5, I would begin
by painting over the Enola Gay with sky-blue paint
and dreamy white cumulous puffs
that looked like sheep or old men with beards. 

I wouldn’t allow one speck of gray-green metal to show,
nothing to build on at a later time. Not one
bomb would leave the soft hairs of my pen,
not one person would run screaming to nowhere. 

But it’s sixty-some years past and the original
painting resides under all the others that tried
to justify or hide the deed—a pentimento
of all those faded pieces painted with ignorance.


Published in: Uncategorized on August 6, 2010 at 2:30 pm  Comments (2)  

The URI to TrackBack this entry is:

RSS feed for comments on this post.

2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Hello.
    Mehmet my name.
    I am writing from Turkey.
    I’ve looked at your blog is very beautiful.
    very nice.
    türk pornosu
    ankara evden eve nakliyat

  2. Wrapped in my usual shroud of self-absorbtion, I didn’t see this brilliant post until now. Sorry for almost letting this one get past me.
    ~ R.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: