ST. John, 1962

Realization seared along my veins
Struck lightning in the sinews of my arms.
The words of the Apocalypse were hung
In molten air: the Angel sounded.
The Idol's robes turned black in every fold
And fire sprang in graven concrete eyes.
She leaned, and with a roar like Nagasaki
Fell in the rising sound.

Hiroshima was here.
I saw those victims mocking here, their forms
Though human, hideous, putrid; grinning, knelt
To seize my hands: and where their flesh touched mine
Infection made my skin turn black as theirs.
I walked alone, in pain, in ruined streets,
And others walked alone, but none could speak.
Each was alone in Hell, compassionless.

Diana M. Holdom