In this land have made myself sick with silence In this land have wandered, lost In this land hunkered down to see What will become of me. In this land held myself tights as not to scream.-But I did scream, so loud That this land howled back at mean hideously As it builds its houses. In this land have been sown Only my head sticks Defiant, out of the earth But one day it too will be mown Making me, finally Of this land.-Charlie's poem

Stasiland: Stories from Behind the Berlin Wall