Because I cannot think about it
I keep thinking about it.
The endless shaking beneath my feet,
all foundations broken, turned to powder.
In the street the screams and too soon
the quick dirty wave,
immense as the cold kingdom
in which the earth itself drifts.
So many hearts snapped shut at once
and then the dark pollen of fear,
a radiation blown far
to the still, shocked world.
In all that thinking, no-thought rises.
The whole of any speech is “nothing can be said.”
The tsunami of images pours like fate
from one screen to the next and the next
demolishing all children, parents,
brothers, sisters, friends.
Our little ride on the planet
each day comes closer to an end.
In each finite an infinite.
Beneath the mountain a well.
With every weakness a strength
waits for us. Now we have
only our lives to give each other.
Who will tell the grief of what is broken?
Plumb here, then,
where our house used to be,
and find Japan.