The Bridge

He was walking, head down, to’rd the center
Of the Coronado bridge.
Driving past I thought,
“This idiot will get himself killed”.

Walking at night where only car lanes exist?
“Bingo! He’s a suicide”, came to me belatedly.
“I should stop, I should stop, ...can’t” I reasoned,
“The following cars won’t let me”

Police arrived to find
He had jumped, leaving no trace.

Why here? Why this bridge?
I take no issue with giving up.
Life can sometimes be a poor choice,
Offering no respite.

Some view his act as egregious sin,
Others conclude the jumper is psychotic,
Or heroic.
I’ll stay with very unhappy.

He’d been here before,
Before the walls closed,
Cutting off his future,
Making the sun gray.

Always a brooder,
He’d found little comfort
In his own company.
Waters, under the bridge calmed him.

It spoke of changes, and mysteries,
Reaching all shores yet calling none home.
Omnipresent, omnipotent and contradictory.

Enveloped in sadness
Unable to find succor,
He returned to this bridge
Believing, the waters would accept his offering.