My dream,
To build a great bridge,
Able to bear all and sundry,
Leaving none at the threshold.
I build a bridge of dreams,
To ferry away tears and sorrow,
To cross vast rivers and enclaves,
To cross over boundaries; invisible battle lines.
For each brick I lay,
For each rod I bend,
I intertwine with existing forms,
Framework set in place
By those gone before me.
I lay mortar on each brick,
As the wall comes up, I recall,
This wall has come up before,
This bridge had been completed.
Once more I build,
I rebuild.
Then wonder,
Will it be in ruins again?
Who will do it this time?
Will this be in vain?
I hope not.
I pray not.
3 comments:
What's the connection between the bridge and the wall? The wall of the bridge?
Nice, a bit disconnected but, I sense hope and strength. Nice poem dear.. Happy New Month!
@Nana Yaw: Yes. The bridge is not big, it is an artifact.
@2cute4u: It is, right? Happy New Month to you too.
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