Bridge

On the bridge, where the Mighty River divides,

and heaven meets, I was anguishing…anxious. 

Motionless, like a tomb, one foot on each side of the border,

I stared. Not at the field of green pebbles, but at their menacing smirks,

As they painted my landscape with cries of horror, fear smeared 

Crimson on the canvas, innocence spared into slavery. I heard,  

The melody of their chant: blood-thirsty notes

pillaged my treasured cornerstones. The result

made my blood run cold, like a snake

shedding its skin of memories. The reminiscence, 

Of the dragon dancing to the sound of our laughter, 

Now begged for the hope of our smile, for remembrance.

Ancestral cries latched onto my guilt. I stepped off,

from the bridge, where the Mighty River divides, 

I froze when the deck began to crack. 

The water underneath powered, by its own torrential spirit .

On the opposite bank, the visages of my grandchildren,

Their pupils of innocence, drifted on sunshine,

& I listened for their breaths,

waited for a sign 

That fleeing was the right choice, 

That I would not forsake them or those I was abandoning.

My heart and soul in flames behind me.

I burned the bridge to my past 

And never looked back.