Crying for the dead

I cry for the dead, for whom tears cannot come.
I cry for those killed to bring a swift end to the war.
I cry for 70,000 souls snuffed out in a flash of light the world has seen only twice.
I cry for those who did this.

I cry for a race that had to be brought to this point before it would stop.

Death and destruction has happened since, to be sure.
But none like the surface of the sun being brought to Earth
to end a petty squabble

I cry for the dead, for whom tears cannot come.
Some leaving only their shadows in silent remembrance.
I cry for the generations that lived, fearful, of the hellish fury's return
Fingers bleeding from their furtive digging
Trying to get away from the light

Trying to find peace in the cold earth, that so many had already found.