Naomi Replansky, “Epitaph 1945” … the hum of spiders…

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the hum of spiders:
an anthology
of works & words

Naomi Replansky

“Epitaph 1945”

My spoon was lifted when the bomb came down
That left no face, no hand, no spoon to hold.
A hundred thousand died in my home town.
This came to pass before my soup was cold.


Few words are needed. The hurt, the horror, the idea is so vast.

A fragment of such a dark moment in history.

Somehow guilt, regret, and angst never leave us.

We think war is about ideology, about ownership, about politics, power. But, it’s really about food, about innocence, shock, about the disappearance of the day to day.

And yet we go on. That’s the grief of it.

~ by samofthetenthousandthings on January 7, 2016.

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