THE HURTING WALL
It was built with rough, black and blacker bricks
unevenly cemented, because
the bricks were all different shapes and sizes
none fitted nicely nor neatly, cement was the saving grace.
Fascinating to watch and wonder who and when and how
had put it all together.
A masterpiece in ugliness.
Uneven things all knitted together
enduring every seasons weather.
In parts, covered in ivy, covered in tears, covered in stillness, covered in years
and yet, still standing as it stood when its builder stepped back
to admire his creation before putting down his tools
Down the years it became more than what separated a people
though, still now the bricks small shaped and big
black and blacker into my soul they dig
and from the other side in its beak carrying a twig
is a bird on a mission from an ark long lost and sunk?
Too heavy the emotions and pains; the missing, the thunder and rains
the losses and gains
And still, after one hundred years, this wall remains