My dad was on Okinawa when the atomic bomb hit Hiroshima. He was a young sailor and rarely talked about his being there. I never saw a photo taken there. His wife was waiting in Iowa. His children were future “boomers” after he came home.
In school I read about the war crimes. About concentration camps and scientific experiments. My short essay on “the mushroom cloud” over Hiroshima won a money prize. Life went on for everyone except the ones who died.
hear the winter wind
acid rain falling for days
folds night on the land
wordshophop 
An interesting story of connections to the past. Nuclear winter for sure after all that destruction.
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Some things are too atrocious to speak of, I guess. My father never spoke about what he witnessed either.
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I enjoyed how you tied your father’s mysterious story to your own efforts to confront the horror of the Hiroshima bombing. Your haiku reminds me of “black rain,” the radiation-contaminated first rains after the attacks. Thank you, Jane!
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Life went on for everyone except the ones who died.
Goosebumps. Goosebumps.
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I agree with Frank about the way you have tied your dad’s refusal to talk about his terrible experience to your publicly acclaimed essay. The haiku paints a strong picture in a few words.
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I find it so amazing how many of us that have real connections to Hiroshima… I can so understand why your father never talked about it… and yes the radiation is so present in your haiku.
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A powerful and personal response to the prompt. A sensitive haiku to complete the haibun.
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The somber tone in the final line of your haiku is most fitting.
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Interesting stories woven into this haibun, paired with a chilling haiku.
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Thank you for the personal share and perspective. I guess its better not to talk about such horrors in war. Your haiku about the acid rain is spot on. Thanks for joining our haibun prompt.
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