In the distance,
a wall of debris.
Cold, damp, sunless,
An ode to all the
Those arrested in
How many have given up their lives due to the carelessness of others?
Aren’t we all just living some variation of the same story?
Why is it so easy to divide, judge, negatively compartmentalize?
Let us always remember each other’s humanness.
Then, maybe we will finally understand what it means to empathize.
They cry themselves
Sweeped into currents
That caress the crevices,
Of their bodies.
Only to swallow them
A violence so seductive
It creeps up to river bank shores
As water laps
To remind them that it was they
Who filled this river
In the first place.
But tears don’t start
Because we want them to.
In 1961, the conquering Soviet army built a concrete wall 140km long, dividing Berlin into two factions. German families were separated and hundreds of defectors were shot on sight as they tried to escape East Berlin and the communist government of the USSR.
In 1987, David Bowie traveled to the Berlin Wall for a concert attended by thousands of people on each side of the wall. This taste of Western freedoms and music sparked riots in East Berlin and an anti-Soviet sentiment began to surge. In 1988, Bruce Springsteen performed in East Berlin, further inspiring the East German people to protest their confinement.
November 9, 1989, the Berlin wall finally fell, uniting Berlin and Germany for the first time in almost 30 years.
Did art fell the wall? The German Foreign Office thinks so. When David Bowie died in 2016, they tweeted “Good-bye, David Bowie. You are now among #Heroes. Thank you for helping to bring down the #wall.”
War and oppression cannot win while artists protest. Art matters. Believe that.
And believe this also:
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
Walking through the ashes of what used to be lives
Not a person alive in sight
They fought this fight every day
Now they’ve gone away years before their time
Committed no crime but living
Cried cries that will never be heard
Can you hear that sound?
Can you see that person begging?
Can you feel their pain? Continue reading Forgotten People
Everyday, we are given the opportunity to bloom with every gifted breath that we take. We get to change ourselves. We get to change the things that we do not like and that is within our control.
Our bodies become as sacred as a plant. Our limbs, the leaves often get snagged off in the process. Sometimes being ripped apart from bites delivered by those close. But, when our old decays, and transformation begins, we wither like the petals, wilting with such drooping grace to allow something new to bait the world.
Everyday, we are gifted with the opportunity to turn our lives around. Do not waste each breath on trivialities and do not let each tatter and tear to render you lifeless.
Our bloom is the sun for our cries.
Written by: Soshinie Singh
Author of The Phoenix Letters and The Mist Calling