I Am The Wall….

I am a wall…… some say ‘The Wall’.

They built me from local stone. ‘Romans’, they were called, but they spoke many languages. They toiled as they stacked the stones and made the concrete. They were proud men.

I believe he was from what they now call Spain, the young man crouching underneath my parapets. He was writing a letter to his mother, requesting new and warmer undergarments, to protect him from the winds and the cold. Did she send them?

Troops marched along my walls and looked out to the North….but storm clouds also gathered in the South. The same troops built earth defences to protect from their brothers who came from that direction, and brought war with them.

Time is mysterious and as it passes, great men are born in my shadow. One such became known as St Patrick…. Another might have been King Arthur.

New settlers have moved into this small island…. Another language… but they’re not interested in me, and they do what the Romans couldn’t do permanently….they move into the lands North of me.

The Northumbrians…. And then the Normans…..And then ‘others’, move in to hold sway over the land, but I am now ignored.

And I crumble, and I fall, and I am quarried.

Time has passed again, and as I wake from my slumber, I observe new marauders who wish to claim me. They wear bright colours and are well insulated. They carry poles and wear strong boots. They gaze at me.

The winds do not feel so cold now. These new people care for me.

Hadrian commanded that I should be built. I have outlived him and many other rulers…….. but I do feel that my ‘time’ is running out.

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