Once a wall, dividing, rot from rot we felt a gentle breeze at first blowing in the wind, a flame in hand, the winds of change, breaking bricks and tumbling walls, borders gone as we were one. That night when hands could reach and touch, again a wave of light, we sang the praise to winds of change. But from the desert rose, a mistral breath, another wind of change, plastic bags in hand. Water filling gently footsteps in the sand. We ceased, and looked no longer singing. Razor wire fenced, we now are aging men believing we can stop this wind of change.
I submit a second poem to Toni’s prompt on Change at dVerse Poetics. This is inspired by the winds of change we once felt, and the raising of walls that is happening again.
September 15, 2015