Horizon Over the Sea, Horizon Over the Land
1
Hey, poet. You, mankind.
In this disaster, what did you see?
Did you see the man who lost his family, lost his home, lost his hometown, lost Japan—did you see his fist wiping away his tears?
Did you see the terrifying face of radiation? The profile?
Did you see the man, his hometown lost, Japan lost, nestling his cheek upon the cow he’s raised, crying.
Shrinking from the once-familiar breeze and earth,
did you stare into the sandbox where no one is playing?
Did you see the walnut tree, which was cut down
because people feared an aftershock would topple it?
Can your poems recover the lost families, homes, hometowns, Japan? Can they comfort the man wiping his tears, his fist wiping them away, his hometown lost to him, Japan lost to him, the man crying and nestling his cheek on his cherished cow? Can they restore the once-familiar breeze and earth? Can they bring back the children to the sandbox?
(continued ) at Versoteque