It was a simple barricade, <br />Arabic letters, exclamation marks, <br />a hot, oppressive wind, pregnant <br />with stinging sand and camel dung. <br /> <br />Passport control in hands so filthy <br />they stained the paper in the heat <br />with grease and dye of purple. <br />'An Infidel', he uttered to the other, <br /> <br />'A German, though, what do you know? ' <br />A closer look at all the visas, stamped <br />and stuck inside the pages, then a look <br />of consternation, perhaps of sadness. <br /> <br />'I see you have not been to Israel, <br />it is a good and pleasant finding, <br />a sign which will improve your situation, <br />say, would you have a photo with you <br /> <br />of that great leader of the world, <br />who died so early, through circumstance? ' <br />I was perplexed and asked with worried eyes, <br />that's when he raised his arm, saluting Heil.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/border-easement/
