Poems of Peace: Oluwaseyi Daniel Busari, Peace from the Ashes
Peace from the Ashes For Hiroshima, eighty years after And so it was— The sun, jealous of itself, Split in two above Shima. It bloomed: A second coming of silence, Without trumpets nor angels, But a shrine of screaming light— Even silence had pores to bleed from. Children’s laughter froze mid-breath. Bone-chimes shattered into shadow-scrolls. Cicadas shrieked like red-lipped sirens. Peace was not born that day. Peace was a barefoot girl— Ghost-skin unraveling— Cradling her brother’s ribs Like reed flutes Blown by breathless gods. She limped across the red river Where koi turned belly-up, Like censored verses Scribbled in soot. They called it Little Boy. It spoke in the accent of an orphaned sun. Mothers embraced dust. Fathers swallowed fire. Yet we define peace in palaces, On parchment. Peace is a ghost Learning to dance in bone shoes, Haunting alleyways Where laughter forgot its echo. O Hiroshima— First psalm of t...