Guest Poet Casey Handrop
The Bridge Crosser
The bridge crosser treks a wide span.
The drop is deep; the path is narrow
The crosser finds no room for error.
Contemplation of the span,
Fear of the fall, can
replace courage unheard rumbling deep.
Burning red flames of terror
await midspan of the crossing,
Others can hear only her
courage calling.
She is the bridge crosser
trekking the midspan.
The drop grows deeper
Her path remains narrow
Out of a mountain of terror
Her courage is watered
The predicament is a serious one
for it's as hard to go on as to return.
It is not raining but her face grows wet.
Unavailable, busy, small, dual,
tenacious, vibrating tentacles
grip a fragile lifeline.
No room for error on the bridge that is narrow.
The drop looming deeper with each step that is taken;
Hearing the bridge crosser trekking the span,
Our own path is narrow; our courage we water.
No room for error but our courage will grow.
Fear of falling replaced by courage calling;
Burning red flames of terror grow dim
Replaced by our courage insistently calling;
The fragile lifeline grows strong in our hands
We are all on the bridge,
crossing different points of the span.
Success looms large in the distance afar.
The Bridge Crossers trek a wide span;
The courage of others waters us all.
November, 1997
Casey Handrop's Questions:
Question 1: Discuss the bridge crosser as a universal metaphor.
Correspond with Casey Handrop at
chandrop@popmail.ucsd.edu
with your ideas about this poem.
The Albany Poetry Workshop