spring in berlin // undivided

“i didn’t think berlin’s that green” i say,
“actually–” he smiles,
“it’s a forest with some houses”

my bike purrs peaceful,
stretches like a cat into the spring sun,
handle bell jingles softly,
shivering over cobblestone,

kreuzberg, west, on eastern territory,
cheek to cheek with the dividing wall,
——-tulips,

Osman cleans
the small spot off the rubbish that a punk left
& plants vegetables, sells them on the market,
in between land,

there are a thousand faces,
& a billion stories,

i stare at polaroids of those,
brave enough to fight a mad regime,
bled to death, shot// left lying on the strip,
border between east & west,
he was only 19

on the pavement,
on a shaky chair, opposite the church,
i eat rice & tofu,

a little japanese boy
tip-toes after me as i go to the bathroom,
waits in front the door,
mumbling in his own tongue,
knocking secret morse code,
&smiles brightly
as i open it again,

he plays with Milow
(rescued from a splintering chicken bone)
on the cobble plastered place,
chasing sun rays,
barefoot on the grass,

you never plan
to fall in love, it happens,
like a sunrise, rain, natur(e)ally,
un-dramatic,
much like evening leaning casually
into the night, i drink my tea

& on the walk back,
from the darkest corners of her past,
hear this city whistling,
brave and unbowed
into spring’s awakening face

.

we’re writing spring today at dVerse…so dip your pen into a ray of sunshine, write a poem and join us when the doors open at 3pm EST..