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Ella Kennett

A Love Affair with Berlin

My love affair with Berlin flashed by 
Like the cyclists that brushed past my ear 
Below the Brandenburg gate. 

Those monstrous columns that dwarf you,
You are only a blur in the background 
Of photographs taken as you wander underneath,
The Chariot guiding you through.

Through to the gardens grown from scratch.
You forget that the city’s green lung 
Has only begun to breathe recently.
It seems impossible that the lindens and the oaks
Were nothing but remains only 70 years ago. 

Berlin, the city of rebirth.
Burning bright again from the ashes,
From the bullet holes in the sides of the buildings
And the bloodshed they carried with them.

However desolate the centre may seem,
She is far from dying. She has just begun.

The wall has crumbled.
Beyond the trees, the chorus of the city rumbles.
The lights of the Alexanderplatz nights blink in time 
With the clanging of the scaffolding,
The constant drilling of a song that says 
“We are alive.”

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