When burning bridges heal
A heartfelt poem about walking past once burnt pathways
published: , updated:
Daylight streaming through the glass,
Trees flying past outside in a blur;
The wetness of the morning glass,
A cherished conversation with her.
Words flowed like the open sea,
Waves that rushed to the shores;
The consciousness was set free,
As it floated down the open doors.
Through the past we turned,
Until it pained me in my heart;
The place where we were burned,
Where everything was torn apart.
Memory is frail, memory is weak,
Remembering is not an easy task;
And yet this secret that I keep,
Today I just had to simply ask.
I distinctly remember the entire scene,
The burning torch in your hand seemed cruel;
I distinctly remember the coward I had been,
As I doused myself with the same fuel and fire.
We burned, and burned,
Until the ashes floated away;
We walked, we didn’t turn,
And neither of us would stay.
Yet look at fate and destiny,
We laugh, we smile, together and today;
Instead of being the enemy,
We simply continued without the unsay.
Oh what a cherished joy this has been,
To discover and to share and to yield;
To feel it in the bones and the skin,
That holes in the heart can be healed…