View Screen-Reader Accessible Site


August 15, 2007

We saw the bridge
    wrench apart, sink into
    the great river of our lives;
splitting the banks of the water binding north and south,
    work and home
    into a maze of stray streets,
    a labyrinth of confusion.

That bridge must have been a woman
    holding together threads of ordinary life
    wrought apart by mystery,
desperately needed, but taken for granted
    larger than life, speaking to the whole planet
    of our wrenched lives,
    our separateness.

Now in summer abundance
    in a daze of loss
    we seek the bridge again.
And those of us who remember,
    come to celebrate the woman
    who bridged God and humankind
    by saying “Yes”, by birthing.
She witnessed death for all,
    like the medical assistant still in her scrubs
    who offered water, solace on the bridge.

But her body, strangely assumed straight to heaven
    defied death.
Somehow, she is the bridge now. 

by Pat Schaefer