Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Bridge

Bridge.

Age grasses these stones,
in easy arc,
from bank to bank,
leaving shade
entering lights dappled realm.
Muddied reflections stare skyward
facsimile of reality
a watery virtual world.
How many tired feet have crossed
in faith filled pilgrimage,
or fear of God ?
How many travellers surprised
by light in crossing
encounter the Cross ?

Moving from slumbered darkness
into wakening light,
Kingdom boundaries exchanged
death meeting life.
For God greets those
who traverse the bridge,
wherever that bridge may stand,
whatever shadows are surrendered
whatever that bridge spans.

photo: the bridge at Walsingham

1 comment:

Ann.English@clear.net.nz said...

Time traveller transposed [full stop] still leaves in its [apostrophe] wake ... ?


I think it's better to leave out apostrophes entirely than even once to appear to misuse them.

Ann, open-mouthedly staring (in an entirely non-judgemental Christian way of course)