The Bridge

In the morning darkness
everything turns elemental
sock and shoe  

a gulp of yesterday’s coffee to survive
the hardest part, the
not feeling like myself  

pushing through to get
past the empty road, I find
not the quiet I

try to cultivate, but
the definitive quiet
all around

there is nothing
but the wheel, my hand, this coffee and
one, two, three brown pelicans looking

for food, searching like me
in this open space
the birds nudge me to move

beyond this savage morning, over this
immeasurable bridge is
what is delicate, is what enters

when urgency falls away here's
my grandmother, her cabinet full
of dates bought on sale

here's my grandma, drawing curtains on a
pulley, tucking me into darkness
here's my friend’s red-headed baby

all have gone before me
it's a growing list like
a mission, this quiet bridge

those I’ve loved deeply
those I’ve loved as much as I could

I will see you up ahead