Читать книгу Ash and Embers - James A. Zoller - Страница 10

My father returned from that war

in a cloud of radiant dust.

In the days of the Empire’s setting sun

his troop ship steams to port in its afterglow.

His war – the story he carried inside

but never told. Never explained. Silence

absolute, a cancer, as if his story like Japan itself

had been shredded, vaporized, cindered

in holocaust. Sun, unleashed.

Now we assemble the pieces of his war,

the skeletal trees, the oily pools

the sudden aging, the blasted lungs. How,

born on the wind, shall that story unfold?