by Mari McKee
A poem about the journey to crossing the bridge to eternity
|The Old Bridge
There is a bridge, I’ve been told,
legend declares it is very old,
far away, it is not easy to find,
some say it takes a whole lifetime.
When we were but a twinkle in someone’s eye,
we waited on clouds way up in the sky,
until it was time to be earthly born,
as cupids played in the first light of morn.
Helplessly dependent, being so wee,
by the next day we sat on parent’s knee,
we could jump, skip and run by week’s end,
in a month by ourselves we could easily fend.
Blink your eyes and turn around,
we have grown tall, fit and sound,
childhood innocence has gone its way,
our adulthood is here and plans to stay.
The bridge forgotten, we live our lives,
for soon we become husbands and wives,
turn around once, turn around twice,
we’ve had enough babies to suffice.
We begin to groan with middle age years,
time passing too fast has become our fear.
regrets for things for which we never had time,
alone now, we are left with memories sublime.
Tottering, doddering, now I am frail,
nodding, I fall asleep and dream of a trail,
it leads to that bridge, of which I was told
long, long ago, before I grew old.
Now nearly blind and deaf,
I hear faint music in treble cleft,
like the Pied Piper I follow the sound,
not knowing what was to be found.
But to find the bridge you must believe,
once on the pathway you must not leave,
angels guide wearing ethereal gowns,
to where heaven and earth are upside down.
I am once again young when I reach the trail’s end,
I can see the old bridge right past the bend,
at the end of the bridge glows a brilliant light
I approach it happily, feeling no fright.
Beyond the light someone calls,“Welcome here!”
I walk across the old bridge, until the light is near,
parents, lovers, pets I loved are waiting for me,
journey complete, I cross the bridge into eternity.