Generational Scars
My grandmother hid in a hole in Nagoya.
My grandfather was a soldier in China.
My other grandmother watched the falling bombs.
My other grandfather searched for a victim’s mother after the bomb in Hiroshima.
I still live in the sprout of the war, confused and frightened;
shamed as a descendant. Don’t let the war live twice—
time grows,
adding to our longing for peace. A stone piles on stones.
Author’s note: Why was Japan at war—because “we” wanted resources from neighboring countries. “We” wanted political influence over the world. If I was a decedent of “we,” what can I—we—do for this world?
Naoko Fujimoto
Naoko Fujimoto was born and raised in Nagoya, Japan. Her poetry collections are We Face The Tremendous Meat On The Teppan (C&R Press, 2022), Where I Was Born (Willow Books, 2019), Glyph: Graphic Poetry=Trans. Sensory (Tupelo Press, 2021), and four chapbooks. Her first translation mini-collection is available from Toad Press. Her full-length translation, of women, is forthcoming from Tupelo Press in 2026.
