The Wall, Mutianyu
Tuesday April 12th
The elegant wall is stone washed clean of blood and labour,
relieved of livery and banners marching up and down the border,
winding a view of many miles now disappearing in roaming cloud,
sublime competition between mighty mountains and a wall.
The efforts to repel mobile horsemen with determination
and ingenuity were feats, but the wall never held.
The history of the country scribbled on the back
of an envelope claims treacherous cause and effect,
but that’s not the way things happen.
‘Quick, quick’, we are called across to catch a toboggan,
large fat juicy raindrops are now bothering to fall,
we slide down the mountain’s lightning conductor
as the silver track turns into a rivulet, more lightning
and we are ordered off half-way down, too dangerous.
I fall over crossing the slippery slide and start jogging
down through heavy rain, drenched in nature’s liberation.