The Bridge

On a dull afternoon rainy and grey,
I'm walking alone to the cold waterfront,
An old bridge spanning the river binding
Two different worlds that look so far apart.
Very quietly gliding by underneath.
A barge wrinkling the face of the river.
What is it that tears away at my soul
That holds my eyes glued to the deep water?
To tired to fight the forces that drive me,
I feel my fate there under my tired feet.
I'm torn and pushed by two different worlds.
One I want to leave, to the other go.

So tired, to tired of making decisions
I looked around for a shoulder to lean on.
Out of the cold, miserable gray rainy day
I felt a hand softly touching my hand.
Reassuring and gentle, strong yet tender
With a promise of love for all future days.
Our souls locked forth and the world stood still
While the river flowed on rippling in the wind.

"Dear LORD let my trust not again be in vain
My love and my hope not turn into pain"
Is the plea that wells up from the depth of my soul
While I hold on to the hand holding mine.
Closing my eyes with my soul now at rest
I follow the lead without hesitation,
The river, the barge, the bridge far behind
I am in a new world free of deceit
No longer torn in agonies of decisions
There is no confusion and sorrows are dead.
More peaceful and more quiet as time goes on
Mystery of beginning again and again.

~ E. de M. ~

  Poem from "Lines Like Flowers" Volume 2
Copyright © by E. d M. and Roland U. Belanger
February 8, 1980.