steve a. manolis poet

The Walls

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We sit against walls, mind and body lost

In suspended animation

Torn shoes dangle from our rotting feet

Cloth hangs lifeless against the shell of our souls

Nowhere to go but this place

Clinging to this brittle mortar

That divides the centuries

No wars have altered these lines

They are etched into our humanity

the walls keep us safe, the walls keep us trapped

we will never see through to the other side

we will never tolerate this coin

it is the same mint, but always two sides

our souls are the tortured, and we are the torturers

tear down the walls we cried years ago

yet the lost are still lost

build up the walls we screamed

and the screams echoed back

we are the visions of years to come

and we have gotten nowhere since;

this dual is our death.