Sunday, July 4, 2010

The Bomb.

The Bomb.

The sky looks the same as any other day. Except for the bright ball of flame that’s moving downward. Crystal clear blue skies provide a soft backdrop for the white inferno that rapidly descends. Although it seems to move slower than it ought to. There’s time to watch the world move forward. People on bikes in the streets. Children in the playground. They always said there were weapons with more power than could be measured. Too much power can corrupt. Such weapons have the ability to decimate an entire city in a matter of minutes. Perhaps less.

My Grandma Azi in the kitchen washing dishes. It’s almost lunch. I’m outside skipping rope waiting for my sister Lena to join me. The dresser hadn’t been moved in a year. Lena decided it was immovable. Secure. Safe. So she climbed it. At four years old who doesn’t think they can climb on everything. It wasn’t safe. Quite movable. Given to fall. Lena made it to the third shelf of the oversized cabinet, before the weight of gravity brought it down. First came the drawers spilling out onto the floor, followed by the clothing that nestled deep within. Down amidst the mess sat Lena with a giggle instead a cry. My dear Grandma Azi settled on the simple punishment of clean up. Skip two three four. Dishes rattle in the kitchen.

Two detonations in one week. A third would be unheard of. Larger cities remain the targets. Newspapers reported the aftermath would continue to worsen over time. Radio reports that there are more mortally wounded than injured. It appears the chemicals in the weapon can melt the flesh from bone and tear through any materials. Standing in a doorway won’t help you when the house tumbles down. The wall and your body will collapse in the same respect. Metals are reduced to nothing more than twisted scrap. Anything in contact will share the same fate. Despite the news and radio reports our small town remains disconnected. Unaware of the real motivations behind these attacks.

Lena tears out of the backdoor with her jumping rope in hand. There are too many joys for a child to ignore in this life. Jumping rope without a care is one. Grandma Azi knocks at the thin pane of glass to motion for us to stay in sight. It shouldn’t be hard. Lena can’t skip rope properly and swings it over her head then stomps on top when it hits the ground. Silly. Stomp. Two. Stomp. Three. Stomp. Four. Stomp. Next door Uncle Elson beats at the wall with his chimney broom. The noise of his brush strokes and Lena’s stomps make an enchanting din. Pleasant simple routine of the afternoon unlike any other.

Closer descends the fiery sphere. A midday falling star. Untimely. Quite beautiful. The earth looks like a catcher’s mitt reaching up to accept the blazing ball. The inhabitants of our small town continue unaware of the approaching invader. From the path of flight the object seems certain to land in the next square. It can’t be more than a minute from impact. As it nears, the world does not change. Air remains thin, ground continues firm without movement, and sound keeps constant. Collision will instantly change everything. Windows shatter, building collapse, bodies torn apart with the brute force of the shock.

In a split second I can see the glass break free from the window pane in the kitchen. Sound shatters my barrier of hearing. Silently I grab at Lena before the air presses violently through our small yard. Awaiting the blow of death is slower than the descent of the bomb. Grandma Azi is gone along with the north wall of the house. Uncle Elson remains somewhat intact. His body is ablaze and melting beneath the frame of electrical wires. Lena has no flesh to cover her bones while the chemicals ravage her remaining organs. My own blackened flesh is boiling above a normal point of heat. Clothing is irrelevant. Eyes continue without purpose as it’s nearly over. Colors in the air transform and become part of the fiery plume of smoke.

The sky was clear as any other day. Life was simple and full of everyday joy. There was a small movement in the east corner of the blue expanse. A falling star in the daytime heavens.

Repost. This is from February. It had to come first. It was inspired by something that had nothing to do with bombs. The idea was a little WWII Japan related as I've always wondered what it would look like when the bomb fell. Which is a little disconcerting. All that can be done is contemplate the level of human suffering. Which seems to remind of the cost of independence. Needless to say, there is no value to that. Anywhere could have been on the other end of that explosion. Enjoy. m.

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