The Bridge of Canterbury

That bridge hanging precariously Across the threatening gulf Was the only escape to mortality For we were safe then Playing in the litter under it Without the pretense of being What others expected us to be Living at the bottom of the social scale Top and brimming with humanity Innocense ... joy ... trust Screening those With polite smile And eyes shadowed by fear Or something more toxic to us The scorn we wore Poorly clad in the rags of their appreciation That we were children Fallen through the holes and cracks In their gift of a poor world Innocent of decadent boundaries ... and yet Brimming like a fountain with promises Springing lilac blossoms in our dreams ... Another bridge Different and precarious to cross Because of all the rules and boundaries Tha anxiety laden with false histories The violated truth of memories This bridge like hope Thrown across a precipice deluged with floods Our feet on the tight rope Burning with desire I remember us screaming against belief To rinse the world with joy Playing under rusted truss and pitted wood Where the concrete flaked its crust Posing a danger we never understood. Yet so much, ponderous with the weight Of all we became, almost unexpectantly, got across Where we stretched our souls So the world could survive ... leeching us still.