THE DEATH OF PAUL SCHULTZ

THE DEATH OF PAUL SCHULTZ

I saw three guards take aim and fire On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, I saw three guards take aim and fire On Christmas Day in the evening. And what was in those guns all three On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, And what was in those hearts all three

On Christmas Day in the evening. A charge of death to set him free On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, A blast of hate to set him free On Christmas Day in the evening. On Christmas Day in the evening, At twilight, just near the evening, A young East Berliner, shot dead Trying to escape over the wall, Trying to obtain freedom On Christmas Day in the evening; Trying to breathe, his lungs shot with lead, His chest heaving; Fighting for, gasping for ... his breath freezing On Christmas Day in the evening. A German boy, bullet-crucified Against the Berlin wall, Shot out of season; The agony of Easter Without reason On Christmas Day in the evening.

And nursing his head In their collective hands The Western World was grieving: Because the stripling lad, Unprepossessing, small, Had become a part of the Berlin wall, Set, forever dying, in the stones of the wall (The wall that was now silently leaving) Diamond-like, permanent, all Glittering monstrous and tall, Against the diminishing, dividing wall⁷ On Christmas Day in the evening.