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Nagasaki

POETRY

THE APPLE ORCHARDS OF BEIT LAHIA

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read288 views

‘The Carpet Bombing of Hamburg and Dresden’,

‘The Atomic Bombing of Hiroshima

and Nagasaki’, ‘October 7th

and the War on Gaza’, might be chapters

in a book of moral tales, concerning

human ingenuity and indifference.

 

***

 

After the Pharaohs came the Romans, and later

the Crusaders, the Ottomans and the British.

The orchards remained untouched – fruited each year

abundantly. High dunes protected the trees

from the winds off the sea, the sandy clay soil

nourished the roots, and families tended them,

harvesting each apple as if it were

alive and crystal. Now, in no time at all,

not any time at all, they are gone

under rubble and dust – aeons wasted

of sunshine and nurture.

 

 

 

 

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POETRY

EXCEPTIONALISM

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read1.2K views

The Japanese Imperial Army’s

mistreatment of POWs

during World War II was a war crime.

The killing of Japanese civilians

in Hiroshima and Nagasaki

by the United States Army Air Force

was a geopolitical strategy.

 

Daily, on the tv screen, out of the sky

suffering comes: dust, flames, detritus,

outcries – and the living burdened, fleeing…

 

…Myanmar, Baghdad, Grozny, the fall

of Paris – long lines of people south

on the roads through the fields of the Beauce,

trying to scatter at the siren sound

of a Stuka bomber beginning its dive…

 

…as armies retreat or advance, casual

atrocities, private massacres

randomly uncovered, indicted,

transmogrified if necessary

by statecraft’s convenient amnesia…

 

I used to believe that if there had been

24/7 Live Updates from

No-Man’s-Land on the Western Front

or the VC tunnels in the forests

of Vietnam those conflicts would not have

lasted a week – but now I am not so sure

for someone, somewhere is gaining glory,

telling lies, making money out of this

the simple immorality of war.

 

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POETRY

TAVISTOCK SQUARE

David Selzer By David Selzer3 Comments2 min read1.6K views

 

“Am I alone in my egotism when I say that never does the pale light of dawn filter through the blinds of 52 Tavistock Square but I open my eyes and exclaim,’Good God! Here I am again!’…?” Virginia Woolf

The Woolfs’ house was on the south side of the Square.

From there the couple ran the Hogarth Press.

The place was razed by a stray bomb in the Blitz –

but they had moved, the year the war started,

to their house in Sussex near the river Ouse.

In the Square’s gardens there is: a cherry tree

planted in remembrance of Hiroshima

and Nagasaki; a stone memorial

to conscientious objectors; a bronze statue

of Ghandi sitting cross legged in his dhoti;

and much else that speaks softly for peace,

for tolerance, for charity, for hope.

Hasib Hussain’s target was the Northern Line

from King’s Cross – but it had been suspended

earlier that morning. He tried to phone

the other three – but got no answers.

He boarded the number 30 somewhere

on Euston Road. The bus – the first three bombs

having already jammed the traffic –

was diverted down Upper Woburn Place

into the Square. Outside the BMA

he killed himself, and thirteen strangers.

He was 18, an FE student,

a member of  his local cricket

and football teams. Late that night his parents,

worried he had not returned from his trip

to London with his friends, rang Scotland Yard.

Virginia, two years after they had moved,

walked into the Ouse. Her body was found

some weeks later. A bronze bust of the writer

is in the south west corner of the Gardens.

‘Am I alone in my egotism…?’

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