Images

 

I feel the sun scorch my skin

as I see summer through

the mirage on the street.

Cicadas screech from trees,

as I fan my sweaty face

to release the heat.

Mosquitos buzz around

to prey on my sticky skin,

waking me up from hypnosis.

Suddenly,

a shadow swallows me,

blindfolding a new born day.

The sound of whirring approaches,

chasing away the people

screaming and running like ants.

I look up to find

a swarm of metallic giants.

The familiar whistling

of Hanabi that fills the summer sky,

shooting through the darkness

with a tail of light.

The fire flower blooms above us.

This time, the whistling

shoots down on us, 

deafening my ears,

pressing me into the ground

of dust and broken pieces.  

The siren yells

at the top of its lung

urging us to run

for our lives. 

Everything

in monochrome -

I am inside of the house

with the roof about to fall down.

I see collapsed houses

with the people trapped in

others’ cross-fire.

From the cartoon

Barefoot Gen appears

in school uniform and geta.

I am seven,

in my school library,

picking up a think book

with the blood orange cover.

Browsing manga inside,

I carry it home in my bag

with a zoo print. 

As I am further into pages,

I see the planes  

and the fire eating people.

He takes me back to

the H-island, haunting me

with images of an big apple

suspended in the air

and a child and a mother

hand in hand,

dragging their burnt skin

in search of water.

Graveyard ofFireflies –

the little girl

with her cropped hair,

carrying a tin of candy drops

while her mother lies in a shelter,

wrapped like a mummy.

I stare at the bag

that carried the book home.

The images invade my head.

My mind is now

a battle field. 

I throw away the bag

in the hope of exorcising

my curse.

With the word war,

my mind sees

those images

and my hands shake.

The mushroom cloud flashes

the image of the dome

with its bone exposed.

I staple the pages

of textbooks, pasting

paper over the images.

But every summer,

they come back to me

with screeching cicadas

and buzzing mosquitos,

waking me up from hypnosis.

On certain days,

I look away from the TV

and cover my ears.

I want to be

out of the country.

  

But sometimes

even in my sleep,

I am taken back

into the field,

in black and white,

alone.

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Mine Remains

pill bug

When I sense danger, 

I just roll up into a ball.

I stay curled up until 

it passes and carefully

I stretch out and crawl on

although I wish I were invisible. 

We were in my room when

his phone rang.

‘It's her.'

He sat beside the window and said,

‘Don’t make a sound.

If she found out that I’m with you,

she’d kill me.’

I was left at the corner,

holding onto my knees tightly

with my eyes fixed on the scars

while he answered to her gently,

begging her not to hang up.

My warm breath on my knees,

too loud to hear him whisper

and surrender to her.

When I sense danger, 

all I do is to hide like

a turtle retreating to its shell.

Under the shield,

I patiently wait for it to pass,

while being poked

and kicked around.

I am still here

although I wish I were invisible. 

I popped my head up to see

whether he would notice me

but my subtle rustle made him

give me his piercing hawk eyes

and his index finger brandished

in front of his mouth,

barring my sound of being.

I was silenced in my room

like when a father scolds his child.

I appear like a stone

even when I’m not that tough,

so that I won't show my weakness 

and squirm like a baby,

although I wish I were invisible.