Poem: The Bridge Between Us

I had a dream that left me drenched in sweat,
A haunting sight I could not quite forget.
At first, its meaning lay beyond my sight,
But now I see, and everything is bright.

She walked the bridge, barefoot, her head held high,
A cigarette between her fingers, smoke against the sky.
She moved with pride, as though she feared no fall,
While I stood on the other side, beyond the call.

A cliff between us, a bridge of fragile wood,
And there I stood, uncertain where I should.
Should I take a step, should I cross the divide,
Or let her walk away, with nothing left to hide?

For every step I took, a drop of fuel would fall,
A little more upon the bridge, threatening it all.
Each footstep brought me closer, yet closer to the flame,
As though the path to reach her was designed to end in pain.

Then came the moment that I feared the most,
She dropped her cigarette, careless as a ghost.
It kissed the timber, and the flames began to rise,
Consuming every plank beneath the darkened skies.

The bridge caught fire; the smoke swallowed the air,
And all the work we built dissolved beyond repair.
The fire devoured what once had held us through,
And turned to ash the road that led me back to you.

I watched it burn, with nothing left to save,
No bridge to cross, no promise left to brave.
All that effort, every plank, every tie,
Turned into ashes beneath a burning sky.

And then I understood what dreams could not explain:
Not every road deserves the risk of pain.
Not every distance calls for us to fight,
Nor every fading flame deserves our light.

Perhaps the hardest truth that I must face
Is knowing when to leave, and give the past its place.
For what is left when bridges cease to be?
No path to you. No path from you to me.

So let the ashes settle, let the last flames die,
I will not chase what burns before my eye.

I stood prepared to cross, but now I see:
The bridge is gone. And so is our connection.

Some dreams arrive to break the heart in two,
Only to show us what we need to do.

And though the burning left its mark on me,
I woke to find the truth had set me free.

Poet: Elkana Kuhenga

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