Asleep

all walls are not composed of mortar and stone...

Asleep...



A photograph of the Berlin Wall
at the end of an alley way
alerts one to the dead end
all war leads to.

Super-impose (if you will)
silent names stacked on top of names
stretching down the black expanse of marble
seemingly into infinity.

Look deep within the marbled face
lined mirrored images, see your own
likeness reflected there.
Linc Berndt left a flag behind.

Echos of the past resound.
Endless reverberations circle round.
Edward Berndt's name above that flag reflects
exclusive company.
Excellence survives- as did his ancestors, having
escaped over a crumbling wall as darkest night
enveloped that fleeing figure who
Emigrated elsewhere.

Peer deep: refractions echo reflections.
Pare away emotions until the
peels lie with the flags and teddybears
placed with love and we, someday, find that
peace.