on the night the green island bridge collapsed

 

I remember it was the seventies  
middle of the week church time 
night time services with new recruits 
eager fresh faced officers 
there at the salvation army in troy ny 

I went outside to look at the near empty warehouses 
across the street and pondered throwing rocks 
into the large old dusty windows 
of course I didn't but that didn't stop me from thinking 
about doing it and imagining the pang joys 
of broken glass 
spilling scattered shattered 
old slow tide shards 
over abandoned wide plank 
industrial flooring ...

I imagine 
every soul, feet 
what soles 
did We possess when 
wielding till and tongue 
with graceful arches into Earth 
what songs did We sing 
while eating, what swords 
did We protect 
our fleeting infinite kingdoms 
of articulation with ...

were they hand   
worn smooth wood 
Damascus steel matched 
to the symphony magnetic strings of the Sun ?

in the new world 
We too are 
armless for Gaza 
even my shadow knows 
We ache for Love 
everywhere on Earth 
We thirst ritual blood wombs 
We know our movements 
innately, within them  
the parading of our 
bones inside seasons 
eons, ghosts, wind and rain 

old bridges collapse 
all the time, I guess  
surrendering to age 
and reason 
bleeding rust 
like We do 

EJR ©