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| Image / Mike |
Crossings
On a two-mile trek through the top of the forest in the clouds
There were six swaying bridges to cross
And nine pedestrian bridges that remained unswayed
Where the world had now become magic.
It was the rainy season
And I thought I had come prepared
Except as I began to cross the first hanging bridge
The portal to the sky was yanked open
And the deluge stung like wasps as it pelted my skin
Then with full theatrics
Klieg lights bolted through the sky
And what could have been the roars of a thousand lions
Throttled the forest.
Being at the top of the canopy provided a breathtaking view of a world
That few ever see
The trail between the bridges was lush with verdant foliage
And it was filled with fantastical creatures
Taking my breath away with their ethereal beauty
And I felt as if I had become part of an ancient story
That has been told for generations.
But trying to cross a hanging bridge that’s swaying like
An untethered pendulum
Fiercely struggling to pull myself across
Grasping tightly to the slick, black cables
Led old insecurities to rear their unwelcome faces.
But I refused to give in to my fears
As the bridges swung wildly beneath me.
I told myself that I was capable
Of so much more than I thought
And I struggled up and down the mucky passage
Crossing the next four bridges, becoming one with the torrent
As the tempest swirled around me
I raised my head in affirmation
As I pushed through to the final bridge
And I knew I had triumphed
When I stepped onto the planks
And gripped the water-soaked cables
Then crossed
To the other side.
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| Nancy Machlis Rechtman |
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