To the wall
The people started marching to the wall when the war ended. They disassembled the wall in layers. First they cut the electric supply and redirected it to light up the camps so everyone could feel safe at night. Then they cut the barbed wire and melted it down to make pots, pans, wheels and even some jewelery. Then they took down the wall itself — brick by brick and stone by stone. They constructed clinics first, then schools.
There were no churches. No ceremonies other than greeting the morning and welcoming the night.
All the food was shared. The weak and vulnerable always ate first. When a boisterous kid jumped the line he was hugged and fed with love so his physical hunger could subside.
People sang and danced and there were no entry fees or controls to separate people in public. Private tents were respected and everyone understood that you were not to enter someone else’s without invitation.
There was laughter and there were tears. There was music and colour and movement and texture.
And humanity returned to the earth in the softest way.