When sadness comes out
Sliding, flickering, falling
In the shadows of wistfulness.
Crushing, crashing, breaking, wrecking
The chains of loneliness.
Tired of waiting. Waiting and hoping.
Hoping and crying. Crying and drowning.
My dreams are burning in the ice. My hopes are bleeding.
My heart is fading in the pain. My soul is crumbling
And I will never know what’s on the other side.
And I will never know what windy storms hide.
Until I cross that slippery bridge.
The wind should blow on the dust of past.
The sky might fill with smoke at last.
Under the weight of my fallen body,
The yonder hills collapse. The foam of the black sea
Dries on my soul’s remains.
Bridge, let me pass through your wooden piers, show me the place where light appears.
I’ll cross those thousand miles to reach the gleam.
I’ll run. I’ll race. I’ll fly, I’ll flee.
I’ll open my eyes. I’ll see …
Second prize in the senior section, ASIBA poetry competition 2016
Read by François Holmey
Waterloo Bridge, London, at Sunset, Claude Monet
Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington