Aug. 6: A Lament for Hiroshima and the World

Eighty years ago today,

at 8:15 in the morning,

the sky over Hiroshima tore open.

We remember the silence that followed the flash.

We remember buildings turned to dust,

shadows burned into stone,

children searching for mothers,

and the long arc of radiation sickness and grief.

We lament that humanity learned how to unmake itself.

And we remember that Hiroshima

was not the first.

And it was not the last.

We remember the Middle Passage.

We remember the Trail of Tears.

We remember Rwanda.

We remember Gaza, Ukraine, and Sudan.

We remember Auschwitz.

Charleston. Tree of Life. Pulse.

We remember Sandy Hook. Uvalde.

We remember the lynchings,

the internment camps,

the concentration camps,

the forced migrations,

and the silent wars waged in hunger and poverty.

We remember how often

we choose fear over mercy,

power over tenderness,

weapons over welcome.

We grieve the myth that violence protects us.

We mourn the lie that peace can be won by war.

We lament the heartbreak we’ve come to accept as normal.

And we pray…

from the rubble of our history,

from the ache in our chests,

from the deepest hope in our bones:

May we learn a new way…

Where justice is not an afterthought.

Where enemies are called neighbors.

Where children grow up unafraid.

Where peace is not just the absence of war,

but the presence of love made real.

We remember….

We lament….

We long for peace….