The Wall

I thought I saw a border guard a creeping up on me. Would I be welcome, would I be rich, here’s what he said to me. I can’t say, I’m just following, kit inspection at dawn.

It might be all small smiles and sandwiches, or frightened faces at the window.

Papers please or move along, next.

I have a receipt for an expensive electrical gadget. No good, next.

I have a shopping list that I found in a supermarket trolley, written in biro, I think it got wet. No good, next.

A leaflet promoting a mattress sale. No, next.

A parking ticket. Next.

The washing instructions for a sofa cover. Let me see, glances down, No, next.

I have a small drawing of a place I would like to be. Don’t be ridiculous, stand aside, next.

Wait, I have an embossed visa with a photograph, but it’s not mine. Whose is it?

It is my grandfather’s, he lived on the other side. So, you are descended, let me see now.

Reading, pointing at the regs. Ok, you can come in if you can sing the national anthem, list all the ingredients of the national dish, (some allowance will be made for regional variations), name ten members of the women’s national team and prove that you are not carrying any dangerous diseases or subversive contraband.

That could be a problem as I am a Bear, I only eat porridge and I’m afraid that I can’t sing at all,

Ok, just recite the words,

And I am carrying some porridge in dried form.

What! Have you come to destabilise our economy, away with you, economic terrorist!

I could give some of the porridge to you,

So, bribery now is it, then much softer, how much porridge are you carrying?

They were made to stand in queues, driven about in an open truck and transported in a boat across dangerous waters. Their last porridge used to pay the inevitable bribes. Ursa Minor was tired and hungry. There was a lot of waiting.

Now the wall was made of sharpened wire, in coiled rolls stretched. The grass beneath looked the same both sides, maybe slightly more worn where the guards, perhaps a bit more litter?

Why are you afraid of me?

I am not, said the guard, we are not the same, you and I, we are not worth the same amount on balance.

Now the wall was made of concrete blocks and metal spikes. The shame was on the other side.

I want to go and live over there, with my beloved.

You can’t, said the guard, if you try and get over, I will shoot. You must stay here on this side with us penguins.

The wall was still made of concrete, but with stone crenelations and a walkway behind.

Let us in, let us out, let us be together. Why have you divided us with a wall?

Divide and conquer or control, said the soldier, and don’t look at me like that.

The wall was made of fear, loudspeakers shouting, look out posts and binoculars.

The wall was made of water, broken hearts and boats on the shore.

I can’t swim any more, neither can I, said the guard, let’s get out.

A wall of stop, a wall of cease, a barrier, a refusal, a wall of give up and go away.

I shall fly over from a catapult or glider, dig a tunnel underneath, a zip wire, some scaffolding, impersonate, concealed under a tarpaulin. I shall ride a bus, jump a train wagon or truck, I shall walk and walk. I shall go in the dark or the dusk or when the morning light is small. You distract the guards with some antics. I shall walk until I drop, live by the roadside, eat when I can.

No bears allowed here, they eat too much. Don’t be rude, I eat just the right amount.

You will take our houses.

I could live in a cave.