In the classroom shadows, sirens cried,
we bent beneath our desks, small bodies trying to hide.
“Duck and cover,” the voice would say,
as if wood and paper could keep death away.
Childhood paused in the ticking of clocks,
innocence cracked like the faces of rocks.
We learned too early what fire could mean,
mushroom clouds painted where playgrounds had been.
So we danced to the beat of a fleeting sun,
lived for today, for tomorrow was none.
No way to be young when the sky holds a knife,
but fear made us bold in our hunger for life.
