Poetry & Prose 2022

Despair in Nagasaki "Hina-chan, come down for breakfast!" Grandmother's exuberant voice wafted up from the kitchen. "Time to get up."

But Hina was already up. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, her eyes giving off a sad, pitiful glow. The sound of glass breaking and muffled screams echoing in her head. Hina looked down at her bandaged hands, her arms covered in scars and dried blood. Her grandfather once told her that she was born with a gift, a gift like no one else's, the beauty at heart to garden. Her botanical passion was so great that she could display her plants around the world.

Hina sighed, she thought about how wonderful it was to be outside and create amazing new types of flowers. Or when she would carefully cut branches on the fuji flowers, she remembered how steady her hands were when she did this.

But everything was different now.

She would never forget the day when the atom bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. The bomb radius was so large it sent shock waves to her town and shattered windows, smaller buildings collapsed, people died. Hina was knocked to the ground. When she tried to shield her face hundreds of jagged glass pieces pierced her delicate youthful body. Ripping deep gashes along her wrists, blood was everywhere. Now four weeks later, her hands were still patched up.

"You'll be fine, you will be able to garden soon." Mother's letters told me. Even so, I was not convinced, mother was a doctor and reassured many people in the town with similar words.

Hina thought about the words she was told again by her grandfather. "You have the gift to make the whole world your garden" Hana grinded her teeth. That gift is gone. She will never be able to garden again.

"Hina breakfast!" Grandma said it again but this time a little less bubbly.

Hina stood up and went downstairs. She sat down at the low table and tried to pick up her chopsticks. When they fell with a clatter grandma picked them back up and fed Hina as though she were a little baby.

"Good food cures everything." My Grandmother said with a warm smile.

Hina felt powerless, a small silver tear ran down the side of her face. She immediately wiped it. Grandma subtly embraced her revealing an entire river of tears, the warm embrace made Hina feel better, as she sobbed her whole body trembled.

"Shh You must stop crying," Grandma whispered. "Your tears will not help those who were killed by the bomb. Their souls must swim across the River of Death to heaven. Every tear you shed drops into the river and makes it deeper."

Hina woke up the next morning and peered outside the window, the sun engulfed her body warming her from head to toe replacing the cold chill that enveloped her body on that day.

Grandmother was taking care of the garden. She watched longingly as she unwrapped the bandages from her hand.

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