The
guns of Christianshavn all stay mute ‒
the
isles and beaches reclaimed from the sea ‒
the
battlements now bear a different fruit:
a
grass not native to this Danish scree.
As Aircondition,
Autogena stand
where
ball and shot and gunpowder were stored,
the
Fakirskolen
helps
us comprehend
the
pen is truly mightier than the sword.
The
lazy curl of dope smoke fills the air
all
down along the Stadsgraven canal,
and
though our lives are never truly fair,
we
have an optimistic rationale:
that
Christiania will survive its trials
and
look towards the future with a smile.
RJT
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