The Wall as a symbol of the cruelty of the cold war,
A city interrupted.
The Wall dissected roads, amputated tramlines and dismembered some of its main thoroughfares.
A wide “death strip” marked by anti-vehicle trenches, mesh fencing, barbed wire.
And then, it was gone.
A city once wounded, now healed.
A new city rose, from ashes of decline
A burden lifted
The Wall felt like an unpleasant dream.
This is a found poem, made using words from an article in FT. After reading an article about the photographer John Davies I knew I had the poem. Being born in a Communist country and experiencing the fall of a regime I know how the Germans felt before and after the falling of the Wall. I hope a part of those feelings is embedded in this poem.