Hiroshima

What is remorse, really?
In the paper yesterday
They turned 900,000 dead
Into a question of philosophy
A footnote in the story
Of war and improved technology
And moral ferocity

Strange how rage become numbness
How quickly you stop fighting
When you hit the wall of form letters
And automated responses
When dead soldier’s mothers beg
At the gates of glory
And are sent court jesters to avert their attack on the lies

Strange how it all washes over you
Like a lukewarm sprinkle of summer rain
Barely leaving you wet
And not a trace of lightning.