The איש Crossing

The bridge. It has no home.

It doesn't belong to either side. 

While everyone claims ownership,

It stands proud. 

It connects, and is disconnected. 

Everyone comes to visit, no one ever stays. 

The best it can hope for is traffic. 

But then all that weight at once!

Rumbling trucks, 

Cables shuddering.

Rigidity would break them,

So they learn buoyancy.

Its presence is clearly known, while its loneliness is never appreciated.

It holds more than most, because that's what it was built for. 

They are the most expensive roads.

Always collecting tolls. Their designer knew their worth. 

Windy conditions don't allow for empty trucks to ride over them.

Stormy conditions sometimes get the road shut down.

If only they get to choose who rides them. 

But that isn't a call they get to make.

They translate and are not understood 

They get people home but don't have a roof of their own. 

They are alone because of their capacity. 

They don't get hugged. 

They get driven over. 

Bridges never get to land or arrive.

They are the road that allows life to move forward.

The noise below is wheels and water in motion, not chaos.

Not needing to belong to either side.

They belong to those trying to cross.

They are not misplaced.

They are exactly where the world needs them to be.

איש