Water Under The Bridge
The sun repents and we vied
to make the loose ends meet
but our knots would not tie
like how our burned bridges did
As I craned to peek underneath
this coaxing pensiveness
the water under the bridge
revealed the mirrors in my eyes:
Discontent is a serpent
with venomous heads on both ends
and many a gnarl on the abdomen
but this titivation cannot be corrected
Satisfaction is the quelling
of ardor flames that burned the stars
and scintillated their insinuation
and should I lie to submission?
The clockwork gears won't
carry the burden alone and time
will pillage all these afterthoughts
until the terse anticipation is decapitated
There is injury and the old bones
are slow to heal and the constitutions
are made to believe and paid to lie
that the cessation of war cannot repair
But recuperation shall come
and leave deep and haunting scars
and regret will teach us, mend us
into our separate devices
Because we cannot make corrections
into our trampled paths,
but the future has its light on
to wash the shadows of the past
To bleed in different places
and smile for varied phases
is better than to drown inside
the isles of our own wrathful revenge
And I will keep on looking back
the water under this lonely bridge
waiting for the familiar resurgence
that buoyed familiar things.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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