A Bridge In Portugal Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

A Bridge In Portugal

Rating: 2.9

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
accusatorially looked up to a silent the sky.
Summer, a new bridge has been built, but the old one
is still there and daring boys jump from it, for them what
happened a winter eight years ago is history. It must be
that way, life must go on and the river must run towards
the ocean and eternity.

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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