Hiroshima by Sherwood Ross I am the Reverend Kiyoshi Tanimoto A graduate of Emory College, Atlanta, Pastor of the Methodist Church of Hiroshima I was in a western suburb when the bomb struck Like a sheet of sunlight. Fearing for my wife and family I ran back into the city Where I saw hundreds and hundreds fleeing Every one of them hurt in some way. The eyebrows of some were burned off Skin hung from their faces and hands Some were vomiting as they walked On some naked bodies the burns had made patterns Of the shapes of flowers transferred From their kimonos to human skin. Almost all had their heads bowed Looked straight ahead, were silent And showed no expression whatever. Under many houses I heard trapped people screaming Crying for help but there were none to help And the fire was coming. I came to a young woman holding her dead baby Who pleaded with me to find her husband So he could see the baby one last time. There was nothing I could do but humor her. By accident I ran into my own wife Both she and our child were alive and well. For days I carried water and food to the wounded and the dying. I apologized to them: "Forgive me," I said, "for not sharing your burden." I am the Reverend Kiyoshi Tanimoto Pastor of the Methodist Church of Hiroshima I was in a western suburb when the bomb struck Like a sheet of sunlight.
Posted on: Wed, 07 Aug 2013 02:40:54 +0000
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