He was there the night the wall came down.nHe lost her in the endless crowd,nin the shadow of St. Stephen’s cross.nHe sent cries aloft for his fellow man,nhis fingers slipping from her hand,nthe rain clouds prowling overhead.nnShe was there the night the wall came down.nShe faded into that newborn crowdnlike a warning of what could be lost.nThrough the perforated night she ran,nher fingers slipping from his hand,nand she breathed in freedomnbefore daylight tread.nnThey were there the night the wall was drownednin the surging of that tidal crowd:nan old world made newnon the same holy ground.nShe found him standing, looking lostnin the shadow of St. Stephen’s cross,nand he closed his eyes and heard no soundnbut her breathing warm against his mouth.