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A Bridge In Portugal

Rating: 2.8
There had been much rain in the upland and the river ran
full and strong, so forceful that a pillar, on the old bridge,
broke off and half of it fell down.
Misty night when a bus crossed the bridge, plunged down
into churning inferno, for its passengers a few seconds of
terror before death came as a blessing. Thirty people had
been aboard going home, it took hour before families of
the disappeared knew of this immense tragedy.
None was ever seen again but one; a woman found on
the strand in France, skeletal hands pressed to her face,
open mouth and the echo of a scream as eye sockets
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COMMENTS
Hans Vr 18 May 2019
This poem reaches deeper into a tragedy and how soon it seems to be forgotten and the same disaster bridge become like a place for play. In a way, the wisdom inside the poem is touching my heart
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Abdulrazak Aralimatti 06 October 2015
Verily, an incident to be remembered in history.
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