We’re gonna cross
that bridge
when we get there.
Then,
and not a moment
before.
Everything
that I say to you
could be a lie,
until it’s time to cross the water.
They used to say
that ghosts and demons
couldn’t cross the river.
They were held at bay,
turned back
by the rushing water.
But on certain nights,
that old covered bridge
would span more than a river,
so even the damned
could cross over.
Maybe the stars will align,
and maybe in our path,
that next rapid course,
that carved the mountains down,
would separate us
from our future.
Suddenly we have a choice;
go on,
or turn back, now.
You look at me
and I can see
the uncertainty in your eyes,
for we’ve both been devils
a time or two.
Is this one of those
hallowed and holy times
when souls like ours
can cross the river?
Sun or Moon,
stars or cloudy sky.
I have never learned
the ways of Magic in this world,
only slow,
painful progress
and so I step towards the bridge.
One step,
two steps
and suddenly my arm goes taut;
for I am holding your hand
and you have not yet
taken a step.
The tears in your eyes
belie the terror in your soul
and tell me that I’ll be going on
alone.
Rage as I might,
I cannot drag you forward,
cannot move you
past the threshold
of this old, covered bridge.
My next steps
will separate us
forever;
and I’m already taking them.
Some bridges
cannot be crossed twice.
I feel your fingertips
slide from my hand.
Your eyes hold
a miserable apology,
but you and I
could have never known.
We thought we’d cross that bridge
together,
when we came to it.
I am lost
in the darkness
of the tunnel
of that covered bridge.
Looking back,
you silhouette fades
and ahead is a new day,
a new life.
God, how I hate it.
All I ever asked for,
but without you
I am alone.
Who knows the pain
of fate and longing
more than those
who cross that bridge alone?
More than a ghost?
HG -2018
