This is a poem I wrote after visiting Berlin for the first time in January 2018. I have wanted to see the city for a while since it has been the focus of so many chapters of 20th century history, so I am glad 2018 started off with this trip.
In this poem I am speaking to an old, frail women who has lived through both World Wars and is now in the winter of her life in the Cold War. She has watched her country be reduced to a grey, decrepit captive from a celestial empire, and I am telling her about my visit to Berlin in the present day.
I’ve come to Berlin
To observe the remains
Of beauty
Scattered, dotted around like
Patches. Like that quilt you sew
Amidst the
Bombardments.
I’ve come to Berlin
To see division celebrated.
Embellished pieces of The Wall
Stuck to magnets, glass cabinets
Smarted of faded graffiti
Sprayed with a raging frustration
A raging obstruction
As a result of a raging obliteration.
I’ve come to Berlin
To take pictures with the guards
Alpha, Bravo, Charlie
Crossing over from red.
Blood, sweat, my dear comrade.
Museums will vehemently display
The tragedies- like grains of cement
Escape attempts they would describe
As a “Door to Creativity”
But as you would describe
A “Door to Elysium”
Don’t get me wrong
I love Berlin
A token of prowess after demise
The heart of Europe
Of art, history and architecture
But it shocks me how
Signs, placards, advertisements
Signal, remind, boast
“Die Trümmern” of a civilisation
Just now getting back on its feet
After vengeance,
After defeat.
