It’s that place I camenapofeature3
to realize was always there,
well, maybe not always, or
maybe that didn’t matter, it
met me, just me, it waited for
me to take that last step, or
was it the first step, onto its
hold, the deck I couldn’t see
through fog, or was it tears,
I trusted and licked the final
footfall off solid ground
that was safe but no longer
held promise, just pain,
or was it emptiness, and I
advanced from embankment
onto bridge that joined me to
something I couldn’t see,
I didn’t need to see, because
I accepted you would be there,
I was brave in myself to take
the leap, course ahead,
span your footway
suspended over an abyss,
delicately balanced
in your hallowing,
and never looked back.




Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 28. Sigh. Only two more days.

“And now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.”

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