Like the counterweight
beneath stone columned bridges,
the mass of years moves slowly,
cast from rights and wrongs
and the willingness to love
until only ashes remain.
I am not the daylight crossing
or a road filled with important travelers
but the mass below that lifts and lowers,
put to use when the rivers rise
and tall ships need pass;
dropping with faces and stories
of departed dreams and ancient bones,
relics of another time weighing me down
so the iron bridge may lift
and what must travel on to continue
on the broad river to the sea.
This poem talks of the humbleness of true purpose…not flashy but essential.
Before I saw the photo Don, that’s exactly the bridge I pictured……..well put to words, these strong structures in the passing of time and flow…….good one……the poem itself has a nice mass that holds it in place……
We who inspire are usually invisible but a complement who add to the Love of our promised birthright.
Actually, I “saw” the Steel Bridge!
It’s a fine perspective Don.
The snow runoff has swelled this local river above the counterweight of the bridge I know, I cannot speak to it. But, I awakened late troubled by an unfinished story this morning after having an arduous dream of leaving these headwaters of the Columbia River in a canoe, anxious that I might come up against some barrier preventing my journey home to the Mother waters of the Pacific.
Touching. I get it.
This speaks to me of the position of quiet undaunted strength, encouragement, understanding and utmost support, which can feel wearisome at times, but we persevere knowing we each have an essential part to play.