Berlin

I stand there in front of the wall.
It stretches up to ten feet tall, and I
ask myself how could this ever happen?

I hold my breath and turn around.
I keep my eyes locked on the ground.
I can’t look back for if I do I’ll scream.

I walk alone on a quiet street.
All I can hear is my own heart beat, and
the angry whispers of ghosts no longer alive.

They follow me and know my path.
They dare me to come back, and
leave my mark just like those before me.

So I write my name, and draw a heart,
beside the words that make me stop,
and marvel at the strength of a stranger.

“Here’s a city on the mend,
here’s a home, and here’s a friend,”
is written in an optimistic hand.

One of my favourite pictures in the entire world. That's me, standing in front of the wall. I was moved to tears, but can you blame me?