Page 11 - Reflectoem Magazine Issue 10
P. 11

The Bridge





                        someday I will cross this bridge

                        over the river not too wide,

                        not too swift,

                        I will walk slowly or with a dance step,

                        or on my hands




                        straightened

                        like a slim African woman

                        carrying on her head bundles with all her life




                                              like an old woman from Ryazan,


                            hunched over, with a gnarled dry bunch of

                                                             memories on her back,

                                                        wearing a white headscarf













                        I will cross this bridge

                        and I will scoop the clouds into my mouth


                        like wild strawberries

                        and then I'll make a fire

                        and  count the sparks

                        under my feet


                               Reflectoem Poems of   Malgorzata Borzeszkowska       10
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