Sunday, August 6, 2017

Thoughts on Hiroshima -May it never happen again

A poster of the last poem in this entry.
Despite my love of laughter, and my desire to help others find laughter and happiness, I am not immune to the troubles of the world.

Listening to talk of growing nuclear threats, use of poison gas, and mass slaughter, my heart becomes heavy. I wonder why humanity seems hell-bent on destruction — and taking the planet and all other lifeforms with us. 

This week, we should pause to remember the bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki — putting an end to a war that had seen millions die because the "War to End All Wars" hadn't.  And since that time, wars have burned and boiled all over the world. I still hold out hope that we can choose peace, but I realize now, probably not in my lifetime. I've written a few poems expressing my feelings, and on this anniversary, I thought I'd share.

The Ruins of Valhalla

The gods of war, while still farmers,
planted the seeds of glorious death
promising that dying in battle
would secure a place among immortals
in the hall of Valhalla beside Odin.

But now that the gods of the Norse
have become nothing but stars in the sky
where are all the souls
of those who fought
from then until now?

Perhaps they are also set up in the heavens
tiny lights burning on through the years
embers of the fires of wars
that they fed
as the flames continue
to consume their children.
©Noreen Braman

On August 27, 2003, the orbit of the planet Mars
brought  the Red Planet the closest to Earth
it has been in 50,000 years.

The God of War

The god of war approaches
for 50,000 years he has marched
steadily across the cosmos
each year sharpening his vision
making clearer his handiwork
his influence increasing
the nearer he comes.

The god of war approaches
a bloodstain in the sky
each day growing larger and stronger
the smell of death increasing
the smoke of destruction spreading
the rituals of slaughter repeating
in corners once peaceful.

The god of war approaches
sounding his trumpet call of violence
reaching his hands out
to gather the souls of the fallen
his voice driving the faithful to madness
rivers of blood flow from the heads of children
who clutch weapons instead of their mothers.

The god of war approaches
those crossing his path are destroyed
he raises his standard in triumph
and puts poison in the mouth of the leaders
setting them one against the other
their strife his welcoming fanfare.
©2003 Noreen Braman

This poem was written on the day I came home to find that my PEACE BOX had been delivered, and left outside in the rain. I still hold onto this Hope, both for myself, and the world.

Peace Arrives
It was a stormy day when Peace arrived at my house
and finding no one home huddled against the brick wall
motionless and silent as Peace is wont to be
as thunder rolled and lightning flashed across the autumn sky.
Peace waited for the barometric war to run its course
rivulets of rain running down its sides, moisture fouling its beauty.
I returned home from the day’s office battles, weary of spirit and body
to find Peace had survived and was waiting for me
battered in body but spirit intact —bathing my wounds in Hope.
©2007 Noreen Braman

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