Berlin in 1989 is not Berlin in 2024.
I was in the divided city,
Entered through the gate and wall
Past the armed guards
And purchased a bag full of East German cash
To spend fruitlessly for a day.

The Eastern city was slow and not decadent,
As I was a tourist and not in a rush.
I went to the Pergamon to check out
The wonders of Babylon,
The Ishtar Gate built by Nebuchadnezzar II
That found its way to Berlin,
Mostly by hook and by crook,
And welcomed me to a city and state
That died some 360 days later.

At night, the Western city rocked
All the way to Kurfürstendamm
And housed the indigent and ill-mannered.
It mocked the norms and winked slyly
At its long-lost eastern brother.
It was comforting and raucous.

I am warned Berlin is not itself today.
I do not mind, the past is too unsettling,
And while the present leaves me little hope,
There is a future, brightly promising
With lions and dragons and bulls
Dragged from out the Mesopotamian desert,
On boats along ancient rivers until it settles
Between the Spree and its carefree canal.

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Born in Canada, of Ukrainian heritage, Ihor Pidhainy lives in the Atlanta area. His chapbook “Meditations about Fathers and Sons” is out with Bottlecap Press. A micro chapbook, “Snowball” is out with Origami Press. His poetry has appeared in Washington Square Review, The Alchemy Spoon and other journals. His fiction is available at Union Spring Literary Review, Bright Flash Literary Review, Adelaide Literary Magazine and Vermilion