Between adolescence and womanhood
lies a bridge, a crossing over
an opaque, murky, slow moving river
cutting through tall rocks with striped
layers of dark rust and pale blush light
Whose banks are filled with cottonwoods,
towering sliver dollar eucalyptus,
and hiding places for feelings
heavy as rocks.
Prickly thistle hurt your palms
like an occasional wayward boy
Dandelions ride the wind
on tall grasses green as emerald gems
landing on newly discovered spotted puppies
left alone hiding near the shore.
holding ropes in lieu of wooden slats
with tight fingers, dark painted nails
tentative, unsure, crossing slowly
moving planks, unnerving to the soul
from baby girl to child to teenager to woman
the child in yellow flowers turns toward the light
“Mama, Mama help me,” she cries with wondrous eyes.
the beautiful woman waits with outstretched arms
knowing, I cannot help, I cannot venture back
across the bridge
the present does not permit return
except in dreams.
Life, my life, my future yet unexplored, unknown
whispering faintly with anticipation
when courage takes me willingly
now in this moment, across the bridge…
All rights reserved. © 2009 by Sara Fryd