The Bridge


The Bridge

Long nights and days I walked across the desert

Carrying with me a full sack, heavy, not as a stone,

But as a duck swimming on a lake.

I walked the paths of the wise mages

Following the sounds of music flowing from the light.

Soon, in the silence of the desert,

Where the light transforms and liberates the mind,

I reached the river.

The river range there like a swan

And its song became a bridge

Crossing the face of the water but crossing it below the surface too.

And whilst offering to take me to the other bank

The bridge kept these two worlds from inching closer.

Bridge in heart now

I turned, and set out for home.

—Emilia Ivancu, from Washing My Hair With Nettles



About Lightning Heart (Vikara)

Nomad. Poet. Philosopher. Teacher. View all posts by Lightning Heart (Vikara)

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