A Meditation Poem by Peter Olevnik

On the river's bridge one night
I stopped to meditate,
reflecting on other bridges I had crossed,
while I watched the swollen currents below.

Swirling, splashing, heedless bound,
as my path in retrospect,
not stopping, fording on.

Could I, at what seemed an inclement course,
have stayed a bit longer,
caught the trace of trouble in your eyes?

Like the rushing river,
I could not slow,
But learned, painfully so,
too late you closed your life.