Inspired by a story of a mother and her child in the aftermath of the Hiroshima bombings (Aug 6, 1945) in the Hiroshima Peace Memorial, Japan.
Blackened skies dotted with pindrops rushing
My eyes wide open wanting and waning
Memories in the form of a son cloud my mind
The door lays open waiting for his return
Sleepless skies are met with sleepless nights
My body weakening under heavy weights
The streets are littered with mourning
The door lays open waiting in dismay
Fire burns the air, skin tarred, blackened teeth
The past plays on as it recedes away
Yet what I’m asking for
Is that exquisite din, of you resting in my arms
Hari Konchada
