Bridge In extremis

In my dreams I follow paths untrodden,
Leading me to places long forgotten,
Or hidden from the view of prying eyes
Beyond dark water, wind, and crying skies.
The strangest of my dream journeys it seems,
Are those that cross the Bridge of Broken Dreams.

It floats alone in mists of tattered night,
A glowing span of wood, shimmering white.
When the bridge appears, my dream paths merge.
My feelings and my need to touch it surge,
And as my hands and my bare feet arrive,
I know at once the white bridge is alive!

Sometimes I only stand there, connected
As my love and lifeforce is directed
With both amazing care and lightning speed,
To another suffering soul in need.
And rarely I am asked to cross the span,
To walk a living bridge as best I can.

Last night I felt an urgent call to walk
Upon that mighty span that cannot talk.
Walked a long way, until I was spying,
Fuzzy globes of men and women crying
For their loss of freedom, country, rights,
Seen in their broken dreams on fretful nights.

As shaken and disturbed I turned to leave,
The bridge had taken hold of my left sleeve.
Now, out beyond the confines of the bridge,
Were fractured nightmares of the privileged.
The winners of the contest for the world,
Lost sleep as fears of losing it unfurled.

I thought our journey ended in this place,
But now the bridge arched up toward outer space!
From there I saw the dreams of all mankind.
I saw the wonder, peace, and joy they find
When they release the worries of their days,
To visit Heaven in so many ways.

At last the simple message crossed my mind,
The truth the Bridge of Broken Dreams defined:
The cheating of the oligarchs might win,
And some of us will suffer and give in.
They’ll struggle to control their sad bounty,
But in our dreams each one of us is free!

Mick McKellar
September 2025