December 2019
I built a foundation
I was so proud of
And proposed we build a bridge.
The sun was shining so bright
You said it looked like two suns.
We started stacking letters
Writing and building.
The work was physically demanding
And we got cuts & bruises as we built.
In work on past bridges
I’d grown accustomed to such cuts & bruises-
Accustomed to letters healing them too.
So I carried on
Not noticing your pace was slowing.
As soon as we laid the topmost letter
At the pinnacle of the first beam
I looked up & out from the new height
Catching my breath,
Massaging the sore spots,
Assessing my cuts & bruises, and
Brimming with joy at the view
And the possibilities now open to us.
I turned and asked, still panting,
Which direction should we go from here?
At what angle toward the sky?
But you didn’t respond.
You were looking down at the bank
And the river
So far below.
You said, ‘This bridge you built is dangerous.’
I thought it was strange
That you said “you”
As though we hadn’t been building together,
That you spoke of this construction site
As dangerous in a way other construction sites aren’t.
Noticing your hesitation
But still excited about the bridge
I got back to writing. Furiously
Stacking more letters,
Extending the beams,
Thinking you’d add decking to the joists I built,
But you didn’t.
The wind picked up,
Blowing letters away
Faster than I could write them.
Peeling them sheet from sheet
Faster than my tears could dry–
The tears I knew would make them strong.
You could have kept writing,
Kept building.
Maybe you were writing
But you weren’t building this bridge anymore
Maybe you were writing
And stuffing the letters in your pockets.
You did write at least one last letter,
But you didn’t add it to the decking.
You stuck it in my pocket.
You smiled, and I smiled back,
Savoring the moment.
Before I knew it
You’d scrambled down to the bank,
Wind swirling around you.
As I pulled the letter out of my pocket
The pelting rain began.
I couldn’t make out the writing–
Something about danger
And resentment
And other bridges that you want me to build
At some unknown date in some unknown place
And your plans to build, but build what?
Rain & tears smeared the rest out of comprehension.
I kept glancing down
I saw you reach the bottom rung
And hop down onto the bank
Next to the foundation.
I hollered down to ask about the letter
Already too far away for me to call to you
Too far away for me to ask about the letter–
The parts I didn’t understand.
The wind & rain blew harder around me, and
Pieces of beams started falling into the river.
I kept writing letters
Not sure where to put them.
I added a few more to the bridge
So you’d know it could be done.
But when I looked down again
To where you’d been on the bank
You were gone.
I kept writing.
I wrote and I wept.
I sat on the unfinished decking alone
And wrote more letters.
I knew not to add them to the bridge
But I lingered there
And wrote in the rain.
I was so proud of the work that we had done.
Proud of myself for laying a foundation
That people said couldn’t be laid.
Proud of you for climbing up high.
Grateful that you tried.
You hadn’t planned on writing these letters
Or building any part of this bridge
Not this year
Not ever.
But you did.
I tried to tell myself the tears & the rain
Would make strong reams for another bridge
But the thought sickened me–
It defiled the beauty of this bridge.
My pockets are only so deep anyway.
I wrote letters for the bridge
Knowing I wouldn’t add them,
Never affixing them to the decking,
Letting the wind carry them away
Twisting & spiraling into the river.
I climbed down to the bank,
Decended slippery rungs with slippery eyes.
I stand now at the base
Watching the wind and rain pull it apart
Sheet by sheet
Slowly, painfully.
I don’t want to burn down the unfinished bridge
To hasten it’s destruction.
The letters that composed it were so beautiful.
I don’t want to look away.
As I wait and watch,
I write more letters
About its beauty
And my pain,
Let them fall and
Blow down the bank into the river.
I wish you were here to watch this with me.
