Thank you to Editor Sand Pilarski for publishing this poem in Piker Press.

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When That Old Bridge Falls Down 

We'll crawl up from the everlasting, dense dark through a veiled hole,
friending shadows and rocks in a bid to connect with who is now left.
When that old bridge falls down.

When war is done, when some forms of flesh have survived transmutation,
how we now appear, pale and bestial, will be at odds
with what is swirling within our beautiful hearts.
When that old bridge falls down.

To see what's crumbled, this brave new world, our inheritance.
To know that to rebuild will take new action, new thoughts.
To feel inside, that underground days must come to an end.

To no longer look at others as if a wide river divides us.
To understand bridges are meant to be links, not scaffolds used to stage rifts.
When that old bridge falls down.