「おばあちゃんの歌うた」戦没せんぼつ者しゃ追悼ついとう式しきで朗読ろうどくの平和へいわの詩し【全文ぜんぶん】

Here is the full text of Grandmas Song, the poem by Ippeki Shiroma, a sixth-grader at Iraha Elementary School in Tomigusuku City, which was selected as this years Poem of Peace and read at the memorial service for the war dead.

Every year, my younger brother and I go to our grandmother’s house on Memorial Day, put our hands together in prayer at the family altar, and offer “utoto.” Once a year, my grandmother sings, “When you hear the air raid siren, right now, we’re still small, so listen carefully to what the adults say, don’t panic, don’t make a fuss, stay calm, and let’s stay inside the air-raid shelter.” I learned this song when I was five, but even eighty years later, I still remember it. Because she sang it with a smile, I thought it was a fun song. I don’t remember any other song I learned when I was five. Even though in the video, I look so happy singing and dancing, once a year, my grandmother sings, “Unjun wannin kanpou nu kwe-nukusaa” and because she sings it while crying, I knew it was a sad song. After singing, she would say, “I wish I had died during the war,” and that made me want to cry too. I felt sad when I learned that people who survived the fierce naval bombardment during the Battle of Okinawa were called “leftovers of the shelling.” My grandmother’s family hid in an air-raid shelter, not even knowing the war was over. An American soldier in a tank told them, “Detekoi” Come out, but they thought they’d be run over by the tank, so they didn’t go out. A grenade was thrown into the shelter, and my grandmother suffered a serious injury to her left thigh. Because maggots infested the wound and the skin peeled off many times, she had a skin graft at an American military hospital, taking skin from her uninjured right thigh, and somehow survived. But a large scar remained. She couldn’t tell anyone about the scar, and even when her teacher scolded her, she couldn’t change into gym clothes that would reveal it, and she suffered during her school years. I’m really glad my grandmother, who sang songs in the air-raid shelter at age five and was called a “leftover of the shelling,” survived. When I told her, “Thank you for staying alive,” she touched my cheeks with both hands and said, “Because I survived, life continues.” Eighty years ago, my grandmother suffered deep wounds to her heart and body in the war. Those wounds never fade, no matter how many decades pass. I will continue to share the stories of war I heard from my grandmother, so that war, which takes lives and causes suffering, will never happen again. I will treasure the life my grandmother passed on to me and do my best to live it fully.