hiroshima

Left alone,

The lids abruptly close.

Hands become lead on the table; body, in the chair.

Clear flashes of Hiroshima, fresh, constant,

Illuminating the darkness,

Dragging me back through the wreckage.

Limbs mangled.

Souls of the living, dead.

"Tu me tues. Tu me fais du bien,"

Echoes in the mind.

Impressed into the heart,

Rending everything that never really existed,

And ensuring the growth of nothing more.

With one swift stroke,

Reality finally demolished the fortified walls of self-deceit,

Turned powerless against the memories.

Life finished. Life destroyed.

Motionless.

Lost in fragments of the tranquility that used to be,

And painfully realizing,

Understanding that it is over.