the last bridge

 
sadness has taken me in her arms
she cradles me close to her bosom
and like an unruly child I wiggle in her embrace
until I tire myself out
finally succumbing  
 
drinking the melancholy she provides  
it settles over my soul
awakening me to the truth
my eyes open
with the knowledge that I'm terribly broken
my life's path has led me through great darkness
 
in fear I've hidden from the light
fear that I'm not good enough
that if it truly saw me in all my naked shame
the sunrise of truth and value
would never dawn on me again
 
I'm broken, seemingly without hope
every bridge out I've burned
save one. my writing
 
sadly I've used it to glorify the dark
the dark laughs at me
with glee it hunts my thoughts
twists them and uses them for its pleasure
 
I met scholars in the art of writing yesterday
a young student who with tears in her voice
spoke of writing being her only way out
she shook me to my core this young girl
 
a Harvard grad shared as well
about being terribly poor
how writing was her only way out
and the clouds over my mind parted
 
I realized I've been given a gift
a way out
a way home
a way to dance in the light

my shame put away  
a garment too tight for me
I've outgrown my past
 
the future is ahead of me  
the last bridge before me
I need only walk across it
and enter the light of the now