Ode to the Salisbury Street Bridge
An excerpt
By Taylor Riley
I walk across you in the cool morning, hurrying
ahead of the oppressive heat.
You are surrounded by activity:
bikers, joggers, cars with somewhere to go.
Seagulls scream overhead,
fishermen lean on you, casting a line in hopes of
something better.
I stroll across you in the warm evening, satisfied
after catching crabs and eating my caught dinner
with my fingers.
I have run across you,
run away from someone or run toward something.
Some days I am heavy when I cross,
heavy with the sleeplessness of motherhood,
heavy with the fear of a new beginning,
heavy with the sorrow of saying goodbye.
No matter how heavy or slow my crossing, you
don’t budge
you hold firm.
Other times I cross you feeling light and quick,
jogging for fitness,
chasing a child on her way to the park,
sharing secrets and hopes with my sister, mother,
friend.
These times I take you for granted, I am embar-rassed
to say I don’t notice you at all.
You understand this and you forgive,
you release me so quickly.
Today I slow down and stand still.
You are surrounded by beauty:
grassy marsh, maturing from a brilliant summer
green to a barren winter brown,
water streaming under you swirls from sapphire
blue to mossy green.
It is unfair you should be built amongst such
natural beauty.
You are man made and plain.
But you are vital,
quiet and loud,
rough to touch and worn from use,
scuffed and scratched and broken in places,
unshakable, unadorned and dignified.
You are beautiful in your humility.
Visit www.wrightsvillebeachmagazine to read this ode in its entirety.
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WBM february 2012