Radioactive Blossoms

Radioactive blossoms

flourish on 

the once 

busy site,

poisoning and 

creeping

across the 

city.

Unstoppable vines

of unleashed power

reach out

and snake around

the abandoned

and evacuated buildings,

invisible to

the naked eye.

What had happened

to this metropolis

that once thrived?

And the brave

few who had

stayed to

save the 

lives

who once relied on

the roots of these

radioactive

blossoms.

I'm sure many people have heard of the nuclear plant disaster in Japan, and about the brave group of workers who stayed behind to cool the overheating core and spent rods. On the New Yorker, on the latest issue, there's a very clever cover, with a drawing of a Japanese cherry blossom tree, but instead of petals, it was the radioactive sign. Radioactive blossoms stayed in my head the whole day, and this poem was created.