Poem – The Popes Revenge – Berliner Fernsehturm – 1979

 

In the heart of East Berlin, shadows loom,

Checkpoint Charlie’s whisper, a warning of doom.

Stuffed coat pockets, contraband and fears,

Silent steps, cautious, as danger nears.

Coffee’s warmth, a comfort in secret code,

Unpacked contraband, gifts, a heavy secret load.

Whispers of unfolding events, nerves now steeled,

Tourist destinations, the only shield to wield.

Braving the bitter cold, courage reborn,

Through the darkened streets, resilience worn.

Mile after mile, with Stasi’s unyielding gaze,

In perfect English, Miss Wagner, the repeated phrase.

Berlin’s Fernsehturm, the Popes’ Revenge so tall,

A beacon of power, dividing the city’s thrall.

From its lofty heights, a tale of two domains,

One vibrant, one solemn, caught in different chains.

East’s melancholy, a stark contrast, laid bare,

The West’s brilliance, a stark reminder, a flare.

Bullet-ridden facades, scars of war’s past,

In the East, desolation, shadows cast.

A city divided, by ideologies at war,

Light and dark entwined, a trembling core.

Witnessing the pain, the longing for unity’s grace,

A prayer sent heavenward, for healing’s embrace.

Forever etched, this sight in the mind’s eye,

A city’s plea for peace, reaching the sky.

May the day come when division’s curtain is torn,

And Berlin’s spirit, in unity, is reborn.

~Suzanne Wagner~