After blue-white flashes seared
the living into shades,
after black rain unquenched mouths begging the sky,
ginkgo fossils shine
in temple gardens,
In a split second on August 6, 1945, up to 140,000 souls disappeared in the Hiroshima atomic blast. Yet new buds emerged from six ginkgo trees within one mile from the bomb site. A living fossil unchanged for 50+ million years, Ginkgo biloba is an endangered plant—and a testament to survival, even hope.
I didn’t know that about the ginko trees. Fascinating. Powerful way to depict that.
Years ago, I took pictures of ginkgo trees in Coker Arboretum in Chapel Hill. That’s when I learned about the history.
How interesting to link the ginko to survival. (I didn’t know it was endangered.) All those deaths, so many innocents killed. I anguish over that. But, as some argue, so many more saved to end the awful war. May no one ever have to make such a horrible choice again.
Thanks for stopping by, T.K. If someone makes that choice again, the destruction and its reverberations may end all life.
Nature is restorative. Think about all the people who started walking in nature during COVID-19. Attention must be paid to the ongoing damage to our planet’s resources–and action taken.
Thank you for remembering the those who perished in Hiroshima, and where the ginko trees now grow. I remember reading the book, Hiroshima, in school and the impact it still has on me today. Never again…I pray.
Thanks for stopping by and reminding us of the book Hiroshima, an example of storytelling technique in reporting: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/1946/08/31/hiroshima
The story of the Hiroshima ginkgo trees bears comparison to the Norse myth of Ragnarok, the “final” battle between the Gods and the Frost Giants. The battle occurs at the end of a long cycle around the wheel of fate. The Gods lose! None of the Gods survives except two, a male and a female, who have hidden within the tangled roots of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Types of Adam and Eve, they begin a new cycle, that will end in the same way. The wheel keeps turning, filled always with death and rebirth.
My father was a test pilot for the B-29 Program. Test pilots suffered a high mortality rate, which was exacerbated by the push to quickly get the long-range bomber into service, but my father survived. Ironically, he was killed in a plane crash in 1948.
Thank you, Dan, for this sensitive reflection. It’s a beautiful post in itself. Yes, how the wheel turns. With gratitude, k
That was the most unfortunate event in human history. I hope no country make this choice ever again to exert their ‘supremacy’!!
I agree. Peace is the way. Thanks for stopping by, Roshni. Take care, ch
a beautiful and important post. thank you 🙂
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!