Escape To West Germany Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

We are hoping for fog
and a moonless night.
Approaching the border to
the West and its freedom,
we begin to get scared.
There are shadows,
some moving.
And sinister shapes
are probably hidden
and waiting to pounce.
The river looks hostile
and cold, uninviting.
But, strangely,
must be
full of promise.
Freedom for sale,
or just for the asking?
The plunge may just be
the final splash
of a tortured soul.
The danger has passed,
the landing subdued.
What we just have done
deserves admiration.
Yet we're only wondering
why the mountain,
thus conquered
appears now so small.