At fourteen
she hauled in the fragile bridge
and threw it back
across the chasm of our generations.
Looking at it now, I see
that the construction
of straws, flimsy half-truths, and strings,
was always inadequate
to the task.
To cross the valley
of the shadow of her adolescence,
we needed a more durable,
more rigorous,
more honest design.
We saw that,
even before she took matters
into her own hands,
pre-empted our efforts,
removed from us the choice
of being good parents or bad.
And now, all we can do
Is call across the canyon that
has widened between us
and hope to interpret the answering echo
correctly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A brave and honest attempt to deal with the bridges that were but straw in the winds of Time but still you still reach out and try... Your awareness and insight is the gift that you bring to these words and they speak highly of you. A sad and sensitive poem. love Dónall Dónall