The door fragment is in a museum in Japan.

A-Consequence Of A-Bomb.

Her grandmother's last view of her
Was the 6ix-year-old,
Sitting, knees up to her chin,
Smilingly waiting, with no fear told
On her face
Or mind.
After the blast,
All that they could find
Was her shadow:
An echo in soot so fine;
A testament to a president
Stepping over the line.

Her grave and gravestone,
Black dust
Stuck to a post-office door.

13:07, Mon. 30/10/2006.

Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 824 times
Written on 2006-10-30 at 14:26

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Charles F Kane
Very strongly written this one:)
You have painted a clear,yet gruesome and thought-provoking picture of loss here.