These Crossing Feet

We finished the bridge but the connections
always bend there
how many years has it been
there’s always been a footpath and a bridge
slippery when wet icy when cold
there’s always been a footbridge
you’d just wonder if the wood would hold
tributary flow beneath these
crossing feet
back and forth this course of ours
so many steps hands full and empty take me to that place
across to see
a stream of consciousness that came to be
bending toward
sacred seen


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