I began to weep seeing horrors
outside the Urakami Cathedral
amid skeletons of the horrific explosion,
that scarred innocent faces,
burnt patterns on human flesh,
and melted eyes of the pure
on that August day in 1945.
  
The day the bells did not ring
for those disfigured by flames,
charred by unseen radiation,
or left wandering among the dead.  
My tears became fears
outside Nagasaki Peace Park in 1956
seeing the insanity of igniting the air.