6 August, 1945
A flash, a bang
And 80,000 lives
Obliterated: vanished without trace
Or leaving a shadow-imprint on still-standing walls.
A few more hundred metres out
Skin hanging from their flesh, blinded and poisoned:
Better to have departed with the 80,000
Than to die a slow, lingering death.
Then came the cancers
The tortured memories of the survivors
3 days later
74,000 more lives lost in a flash
Thousands more half-dead
More still set to endure a living death.
The Bomb itself now almost
Out of living memory
It’s brave survivors strain
With every breath of life left in them to impart their tale:
When they are gone
Do we thank God the memory of the Bomb is over
And leave it behind?
Or do we test it out again
For old times sake
And see what happens?
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