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tears come in all colors

In memory of the women, who survived WW II and the efforts they expanded for the sake of rebuilding a war ravished country. Those women were the role models of my generation. I thank my mother for showing me what determination can accomplish, I thank my sister for showing me how to smile and to revere life.
Berlin has again risen to the status and splendor it deserves. But, but who will remember after we are gone?

The pain, the suffering, and no one to tell,
The country destroyed, they worked all through the night,
and no one heard the cry of the child.

With eyes wide open, the mind is so numb,
how can we survive without any fun.
We laugh we dance, we feel so ashamed,
For something that happened,
every body was scared.

The demands on the women,
For progress and wealth,
often beyond
their will and their health.

How can we be healthy in spirit and mind
when all we remember
is how they cried.
How can you pass on the glory and hail,
when all you could see was destruction and fail.

I looked at the faces, their hands in the air,
the task back breaking, and no one to care.
The men are all gone, or unable to help, so they got together and took on the task.
The country destroyed, they work day and night,
the work never ending,
no one hears the cry of the child.

They helped to rebuild a city so dear,
please remember how often they felt fear.
They laughed, they danced, they felt so ashamed, for something that happened, every body was scared.

As we grew up, the city rebuilt, we slowly forgot what made it so great. The city I love so much in my heart, is now once again a jewel among art.

Brigitte Henningsen

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