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Stones

Kings built the stone with

victory, to have won,

the privilege to tread upon it,

where, she was, in the eye of the king

a different goddess, driving different horses

But soldiers beat the stones

with their feet, every stone

a shambling, and soles are clacking

upon them, hammers are falling,

apart, taken away, how vacant

the door, sees the snail

masking the royal stones, with lines,

that won’t fade, into the pebbled cracks

Unter dem Linden, he sits

with the tears of the trees

and Unter dem Linden

he sits, with the protesters

Who test the stone with their will;

Test it with starvation, immigrants

stay holding her, through it all

So Berlin greets the world

her staff is high, as people

Demolish the stone with unity

with tourists, who will suffer?

“But it should not have happened,”

and still Berlin will greet the world

they know, but two don’t, in soldier’s costume

gracing the Avenue, tainting the memory

so Quadriga, greets the world,

the framed moment, photograph of river’s bed,

they’re standing in anger, it saddens

because history is drenched with Panzers

Controlling the stones, with thunder and lightning

standing upon them, the leaves

they have fallen, and worn down all

the stones, with their fading reason

but we stand up, on time to see it all

because there is none left, there is no place

for rest

So we must sleep upon the stone