where the writers are
Do Wonder
Do Wonder

Imagine a bridge high over water,
high enough that the depth below,
lost among the thick fog,
glows with the golden rays
of the early morning sun.

You're there with your family,
son, daughter, parents and wife,
cousins and uncles and aunts,
and a bit farther your neighbors
and farther still your town.

Although you cannot see
you know that it's longer than that,
not only filled with the people of now,
but of other times as well
some of them almost not human.

Every now and then someone jumps.
Not in a rhythm, more like rain.
Some with a surprised look,
some contorted and in pain,
or resigned to their fall.

Your mind reaches out for sound,
or a break in the jeweled cloud.
Could you go back, you wonder?
You among all? And why?
as you give in to the gentle tug.