I remember the fear

and tried to brush

it aside,

to put out of

sight,

of the images of Nuclear fire,

Mushroom

Cloud

column of the blister oozing

pus and gore;

I counted them out

that morning

as they crossed the line of death

in the sand,

my paper round

the following day, one

of a moment which I thought

would lead to death of millions, and yet

in Chernobyl a reactor

would create that chaos

for me.

Ian D. Hall 2016