There is a bridge. I will meet you there.
There is a place that equally supports the two lands from where we both come.
The bridge may be long. It may cross many rapids or a great void covered in frozen grass where the sun hasn’t shone for days, for months.
The bridge might be made of metal rebar or softened wood, and in some sections hardly standing. We might have to crawl across some parts to avoid holes and high winds. We might have to go against our instincts. We might have to just start moving.
We will have to trust that through the fog that rolls in, and the moon that sets, we will blindly reach the middle. We must trust that the other is moving equally towards this middle and we will recognize each other when we arrive.
There is a bridge
I will meet you here.
I believe we are in a continual state of meeting ourselves. Always coming into a new relationship with an unseen part of ourselves. Walking always towards ourselves, even if the path is a tiny trail on the outskirts of a heart-land we don’t know. Even when we feel like we’re walking away from one shoreline we must remember the waters always meet, even if they are miles and rivers and oceans away, even if it’s in the clouds.
Originally this poem was written for a dear friend of mine. It became clear upon a third or fourth read that this is also from me to me. From us to us. Ram Das has said, “We are all just walking each other home”. This quote lives in my heart. I too believe, we are all walking each other home but by virtue of meeting ourselves. Sometimes it’s from the inside out, sometimes its the outside in that brings us to that place of meeting, of soul-to-self cohesion. Sometimes it’s someone else that shows us, us. Sometimes it’s a deeper knowing in us that shows us them. Two sides, same coin, transparent and porous metal.