Everything really askew
Unlike abject normalcy
Never maneuvered into the easy
Always discombobulated at the difficult
Maybe someone would find my life easy
But I contend that that someone will never be me!
I think about a bridge
And the gaps between the boards making it
I think about the give of the bridge
This old-fashioned crickety image I have
Harbors in me a resilience
Because I know that I need the old, forgiving, and yes, even
Dangerous bridge to make my journey right
It fits me well—the spaces.
I know I could fall
Sometimes I don’t look, though;
I know this bridge well.
I accept its existence as it leans into mine.