Fate

Fate

The winds blow in waves, like the bombardment of planes on December 7^th, 1941. It seems like they blow whispers in your ear, and you think you hear the explosions in the distance. You observe the person next to you, looking fretfully at the sky and see them looking past the dolphins in the distance. They think they too will see the glisten of the red Japanese symbol. But nature tricks you. The birds remain high in the air as if mocking the humans who continue to glance at them, regarding them as if they are vengeful angels, trying to return them to their forefathers. But the birds dare not move closer. They know not to tempt fate. They appreciate their lives.

As you look around the metal tower you see a glace box within likes the treaty that the Japanese signed after their two cities were left in ruins; destroyed by fire. Ironically, you glance up and see hoards of Japanese civilians walking the decks. They look like the ghosts of their fathers who bombed the ships themselves. It’s almost insulting. You see their small eyes squinting at the brilliant sun who acts like a crusader warding them away from the site; using its powerful rays to exercise the demons from the holy land. The rays of the sun create visions in their mind, the idea of the brilliance that the atomic bomb displayed before their family members were decimated from the earth.  No one asks why they are here, but no one welcomes them either. They dare not say anything; they too know not to tempt fate. They appreciate their lives.

            Finally as you look down into the blue abyss you see the remains of a warship forever locked in a war with physics, trying to once again return to the land above. But as you glance closer you see the oil oozing up from and unknown source, returning to the world above after all this time. Again an irony, when its inhabitants will never be free. They are left infinitely left decomposing beneath the waves. As you leave, the wind whispers in your ear the screams of the soldiers which were heard for days in the metal labyrinth beneath the waves. When the wind comes to an end and the screaming leaves your mind, you become grateful that you left with what you came in with. The joy of life. You reflect upon what nature showed you, and how it helps people be grateful for what they have. You appreciate your life. As a result, you leave with anger as well, thinking of the soldiers who will never return to their families. And as you walk away you again see the oil bubbling to the surface. But you know that it will eventually come to and end, like the soldiers’ lives on that fateful day.