the bridge

the bridge

No one can build you the bridge on which you, and only you,
must cross the river of life
. —Friedrich Nietzsche

it didn’t look
like my mother’s—
so foreign, she
didn’t understand,
and not apprehending,
the width, breadth
and depth of what
I was building—
my way through life

the components
I chose:
piles that drove deep,
caps and bents
to spread weight,
decking for the path
I walked,
girders that soared
into light
my bridge

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

4 thoughts on “the bridge

  1. Patrice H Garrett

    Amrita, I loved the bridge. I can see you writing it. Sitting at your big office desk.. So you.. Love, Patrice

    WordWranglingWoman Sent from my iPad



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