Don Baird

Nagasaki —
in her belly, the sound
of unopened mail

Don comments on this haiku:
The bombings of Japan, a nation half starved, disturbs me to no end. I’ve pondered both bombings quite often. I feel the pain; I feel the separation of families, central and abroad. I labor over the moment thousands of people burnt away (instantly). No notice, no preparation — just gone!

What was left unsaid? Was there love on their tongues, hate in their heart? Were there unfinished conversations? Were meals prepared and waiting to be enjoyed?

Suddenly, where did hope go? Where did the last hug go? What happened to them this time when they said “good-bye for now” but turned out to be forever?

Blasted. Left empty. Debris. Dreams, debris; homes, debris; children and parents, debris. What would they say to each other if they all knew this was their last day on earth? This is gut felt. Even the sound of silence rang loud in the smoke. How much was left undone, now gone? It’s disturbing.

Clearly, these two bombings (Nagasaki and Hiroshima) deeply disturb me. This poem is my outcry to the world as the world attempts to reconcile the war to this day. It was written during one evening. Initially, I used the word “mind” where the word “belly” became the final choice. It was more than mind — it was “guttural.”

Award winning, it holds awards from Haiku Now (1st) and the Touchstone Award. At this point, it is published worldwide in many different venues including notable books.