The Bridge - Margaret Rooney

[Larry Robinson]

The Bridge

curve of stone, over a river glinting 
moments of brightness like stars

light on the water is changed
the current has new shifts and breaks
spars and beams are strewn
like fractured bones
from an earlier noise that ruptured air
leaving so many lives undone

missiles whistled through the sky
fire and ruin in the squares
in all quarters of the town
spirals of smoke, spokes of flame
turn and turn in the tattered air

small live things vacate
roosts and burrows, eyes 
round with the shine of fear
horses shriek their terror 
teeth bared, eyes bulging
trees are shredded 
and children weep in the night

this bridge was broken in the last war
and not rebuilt

we wade to the park on purpose
with our dogs, picnic baskets, 
babies and frisbees
we do not want to patch over and forget
the dark woebegone time of exploded hope
unmanageable grief
when we were bent double 
splintered with pain and fear
felt the blinding bulk of loss
the empty spaces where loved ones 
once were
we want to learn from this
keep witness to the unimaginable
and not have our children ever asking:
- this again?

	- Margaret Rooney