The shirt is larger than the day
And heavenly blue in color
The yellow gives, like a scent,
an undertone that I did not foresee

Set down, arms wide
With a broad chest forward
blessed by the struggle
and nothing that stops him there

The armor hollow
Arms horizontal
Powerful on the ground
Silent without mercy

He did it all by himself
From Krakow, Aquitaine to Milan
A human life long bound
Border after border was violated

He walked a straight line
Vertically connected
With all those who understood him
Followed him in his being

Slowly, his shirt was colored
and approved by the women
made wet by children
the struggle by him ceased

The European land was colored in
With languages strange and incomprehensible
Paths for the stranger were passable
Healed what had been torn earlier

A Babylonian house designed
That was entrusted to him
That unity was built on us
Slowly fell back on city and villages

©Eddie van Aken, poetry collection: Wolkenridder 2020

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