Little Boy
Not a child of happy days,
A cold and ruthless little boy,
Who's games are cruel and vile.
In the pretence of innocence,
Has come a smouldering pyre,
A swift and deafening crack,
In the wisdom of old men.
Does he alone carry their guile,
Wearing a terroristic smile,
Evil and deadly, short on hope,
He leaves mankind hung by a rope.
His Fathers' hate so vengeful still,
He carries the message of doom,
Settling with the ash and soot,
And the invisible disease to come.
A silence, everlastingly intense,
Falls like a shadow of death,
Onto a land once covered by sun,
That would rise on innocent souls.
Crying and painful pleas,
Are heard across timeless miles,
A sin this little boy has done,
Urged on by a heartless world.
His obituary is sadly empty,
The costs his deed has wrought,
But has it brought us peace at last,
And a world spared of this hateful thought?
Why did we forget the basic law,
That vengeance is not ours,
And hurry to hide the shameful truth,
Beneath a field of flowers.
Our hearts and minds are tempted still,
To ignore the simple facts,
Whatever hurt we spread abroad,
Will reap the same, a hundred fold.
8.15 am August 6th 1945
Hiroshima Japan.
The blinding light was one of the darkest that man has ever seen.
