(east) Berlin
I ran down the street
paralleling a row of bricks in the ground,
two bricks side by side
forming a line.
This is where the wall was
that separated millions from freedom.
If I run to the right of them
I’m in a free land.
On the left authoritarian.
I lift my gaze as I continue.
The brick line in the sidewalk extends.
It parallels the street I’m on (Wall Street)
dividing the neighborhood into two countries.
The morning sun is low.
It’s just the right angle so it glares and bounces
off the smooth bricks
spotlighting them against the dark rough pavement.
I follow them as they bend left at the intersection.
This block still has a large section of wall standing
with graffiti that says Save the planet.
Hula Girl
I climb into the back of the Blackhawk
and strap in.
I’ve done it a million times—
snap the ends into the four point harness,
put on the seafoam green headset
so I can talk to the crew.
I’m about to enter Syria for the first time.
All set.
I settle in and look up to the cockpit.
Through the windshield
I see a car dash hula girl dancing in the twilight
of the setting sun,
the vibration of the main rotor setting the beat
Chad Corrigan is a Soldier and helicopter pilot. He holds an undergraduate degree in Philosophy and Political science from Stonehill College, a graduate degree in Public Policy from the University of Pittsburgh, and he completed a fellowship at Harvard University. His writing has appeared in the anthologies Why We Write: Craft Essays on Writing War and Things We Carry Still, and the journals The Wrath-Bearing Tree, Proud to Be, and As You Were.
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