# There Was a Land
       Published: 2026-09-07
       
       There once was a little land,
       divided in its middle.
       By peacekeepers it was spanned,
       guarded at every step and tide.
       
       But finally the grey band gave way,
       as the old wall broke apart.
       What belonged together, hand in hand,
       grew together, strong and fast.
       
       Now they believed in joy's loud call,
       that time heals every wound.
       One state rose at the wall's fall,
       the other had vanished, swooned.
       
       The work was gone, need threatened near,
       an old enemy reappeared:
       "The foreigner robs our wage and cheer!",
       until rage in flames appeared.
       
       They soon put out the fires' glow,
       grass grew in every nook.
       Daily life returned, and so
       hope seemed to wake again.
       
       They swept peace before their door,
       as if nothing had occurred.
       But deep within the pavement's floor,
       the old crack remained undeterred.
       
       So passed year after year,
       while we cherished peace so dear.
       Because the cuts were barely seen,
       where powers sharpened knives unseen.
       
       Then stepped forth in this young land
       a man, with the pen's command.
       Who found a message, a new creed,
       that sowed discord like a seed.
       
       They summoned doom upon the world,
       because foreigners threaten us,
       that hate disfigures the Western world
       with toxic slogans and discourse.
       
       Fear of the foreign quickly grew,
       it stood in crowds at every door.
       Where willingness to help once knew,
       now only chaos held the floor.
       
       "We can do this!", was the decree,
       that was supposed to hold its ground.
       But in the new strife's darkening sea,
       hatred rolled as a wave unbound.
       
       Only rage now unites the land,
       where discord once flowed so sharp.
       As blue turned brown in hatred's hand:
       The Führer would have loved it, sharp.
       
       The pandemic pressed with dreadful weight,
       drove fear into every mind.
       And new media blared loud and great
       as false guardians of belief, entwined.
       
       They stoked hate against green and left,
       forgot the people in their need.
       They let the madness bloom unchecked
       and beat the centre down indeed.
       
       The blue front stepped forth quietly,
       crept through the country's rage.
       It nourished grievance and old fantasy
       in bourgeois dress and guise.
       
       They loudly cry for German verse,
       demand education, strict and raw.
       But their own spirit lacks direction's course,
       for no single book did they ever saw.
       
       I think back to brighter times,
       when words still stood in light's true shine.
       When verses freed the spirit's climes:
       "Here I was human, here it was fine!"
       
       From East and West, with cunning hand,
       many pour oil upon the fire.
       Consensus chokes in smoke's command,
       the ending comes at cost so dire.
       
       If the alliance breaks within the German realm,
       the bear reaches deep into the field.
       The neighbour across the great sea, at helm,
       divides our world, cold and concealed.
       
       There once was a darkened land,
       now shattered into shards.
       It cried "Democracy!" and bland,
       slowly sank into the dark.
       
       Yet stiff remains only what soon will shatter,
       the soft yields, the hard will break.
       A silent drop hollows the world's matter,
       and digs its way toward light's awake.
       
       No cry belongs to splitters alone,
       no spirit builds walls around the land:
       "We are the people!" endless in tone,
       true goodness breaks through every band!
       
       —vk
       
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