River Of Bridges Poem by Deborah White

The River of Bridges flows through my life and will meander on when
I am long gone. My river has seen things that I’ve not seen things I can
only dream. My great grandmother walking along its banks with a
baby my grandma in her arms. An infant cradled in the promise of
a city and an unhurried river’s everlasting Tyneside charms. Wishes
and lives yet to be made, memories born lived carried on the river never die or pass us by, and never completely disappear or fade. How I wish I could see what my river will see when I am a memory, footsteps alongthe way. Where will my river take me, if only for one precious day?



My river knew me knew my voice knew my footsteps before I was born.
It has glimpsed many a true Geordie family herald in a new dawn.
Families beginning and ending in the same familiar places not far
from their beloved Tyne. The RVI, HopeDene, or another birthing or
final rest place. A child save four generations, born to live and to die
within a mile of hallowed St James’s Park and the sound of St Mary’s sweet Cathedral bells. Books of remembrance filled with Geordie names families compelled to be together as the river of life rises falls and quells.



The shadow of my childish footsteps in the streets in the school yard
in the playing fields in the churches, across the town moor. Is where I
have been is where my children and my grandchildren will go. The
same footsteps, the same path the same echo the same smile my great grandmother Honnor. left behind seventy or more years ago. So what has changed in Newcastle upon the banks of the ever flowing Tyne? In the passing of a moment that is my great grandmothers my
grandmothers my mother’s lifetime; and in the end will be mine?