Keep Folding, Sadako

She folds

Crane after crane.

A speedy recovery, a happy life.

Good luck and world peace, or so they say.

Fifty seven.

She folds

Paper after paper.

If the gods are watching, they’re very quiet. 

As long as they grant a wish, that’s okay.

Four hundred and seventy two.

She folds

Crease after crease.

A hope on her tongue, yet it never leaves her lips.

Her room now a memorial to the yearning she will never tell.

Eight hundred and thirty four.

She folds

Day after day.

Something to do with her hands,

Something to fill the time.

One thousand two hundred and ninety nine.

She folds

Month after month. 

Hands dancing mindlessly over the paper, eyes lost in the distance.

Her count is long since lost, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

She folds.