the battle of the walls


at first, they were the same. layers of brick, heavy film of dust, crumbling cement, aged green and dirty yellow with moss. they spread through the city like a faded network separating houses, separating plots of land, separating people as it were, from each other.

and then it began. slow whitewashes. and paint. often red. one group decided to make their stand. messages of hope. messages of prosperity. messages of rallies. the promises of one political party.

within ethic groups of political beliefs, the other parties took to the ruins of walls to make their own declarations. of hope. of prosperity. back and forth they raged. red versus blue. whitewashed. whitewashed. blue over red. unending in new dates. endless in agendas. forever at unrest.

for years it waged like this, one group versus the other. parties of questionably great men. groups of socialists. communists. democrats. royalists. minorities. idealists.

they bleed into their words and they bleed the country.

till one day emerged another ‘ists’. of more colors. of more youthful exuberance. they came one wall at a time, they came from many thoughts but one mind.

they came.

they arrived.

the artists.

they came with cans of love, they came with brush strokes of peace. they came and the countless fingers interwined in unity. they painted over the words and replaced them with pictures. they drew of campaigns. they drew of laughter. they drew of children and fish. they canvassed the whole city.

but we are a proud people and wars aren’t won in one battle, so the others–they retaliated. whitewash paint. whitewash paint, add date. whitewash paint, must always end with the name of the political party.

party versus party versus artists.

images diluted over letters. imagination smothered by mandates. rejuvenated walls drained by hope, prosperity, colors, races, love. layer afer layer, idea after idea, group after group after group.

they battled of who would show face on walls.

they battled to the no good of the people.

and the people? such was their response. that all the paint faded. that layers of wounds chipped. that colors no longer bleed, they flaked.

and the people? their land, they houses, they, stayed separated.

and the walls, regardless of what they were showing, crumbled away. just the same.

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