Nanja Noterdaeme, Spring 2022, Not yet there in the rubble 

There is a new wall piling up yet not there
Not closed yet, there is still hope
Cows lay there nonchalantly between buttercups under the sky
The concrete blocks are laying in the fields,
And old shops made of any possible rubble stand dangling
Just behind.
Inside the cloture, people, and their shoes everywhere on trays on steps on ways, wherever
their feet bring them multicoloured and diverse, men and women and kids’ flip flops, plastic more then
anything else, sponges hanging in a net, lullaby of the wind
The camps are slowly awakening amidst piled up bikes, wires, stones, clothes.
A kid peeps behind a curtain, eyes are mirrors in a mirador country
The world is uncertain
If not for the smiles you receive warming up the giver and the taker
If not for two long and longer handshakes from small and airy
skinny boys playing with sticks
The world is uncertain if not for love.

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