The Bridge I Burned

THE BRIDGE I BURNED I burned the bridge behind me, the one elaborately built, The one of all my failures, the one of sins and guilt. A bridge I thought would carry me to a life of bliss, A bridge o’er which I labored--none could build one like this! It seemed I took such care in constructing all its piers; I’d built it like a fortress to withstand many years. Yes, others helped me build it and promised they would go Across the bridge right with me, so how was I to know That they, too, had their bridges and highways just like mine, All building just to travel and some other land to find? The cost seemed not to matter, nor did I know the toll That of building, that of crossing, would demand of my soul. And at long last ‘twas finished--yet now I crossed alone; The friends with bridges also had left when mine was done. But now One waited for me to help me light the fire To burn the bridge behind me--the bridge of self desires. I burned the bridge behind me--go back? I would not dare! A detour sign is posted; “BRIDGE OUT” is written there! ‘Tis sad and ‘tis a pity I built it for so long, With girders and with braces, with materials so strong. ‘Tis sad that, though I burned it, the ashes left behind Become a scar of memory, a wasted life and mind, And yet I’m glad I burned it e’er too late it became And one last time I crossed it to eternal doom and shame.