Hiroshima's Little Boy

Hiroshima’s Little Boy. Boy shaped memory burnt into stone. An anonymous shadow of war. Running forever to a destination unknown. Hung, suspended, an inch from the floor. Were you on an errand? Or were you at play? Helping your mother? Or chasing a friend? Where were you going when the Enola Gay birthed death to a community condemned? American’s shout of the American dream. Arrogance condensed in a shell. The price is a thousand innocent screams and a boys’ silent footsteps through hell. Is your mother still waiting for you to return? Did her pained cries match the American cheer? Did she search rubble as Hiroshima burned and American pilots sat down for a beer? Did any American break down and cry? Did any get upset or annoyed? Did any care that hollow sockets wept eyes at the sight of their Little Boy?