Across The Burma Bridge

On the river Kwai the Burma bridge waves at its on-lookers,

For a noble cause I’ve travelled this far to reach the monastery,

Across the bridge I must travel before the sun sets, and gets dark,

Yet, the swinging bridge, on two thick ropes, scares me to the core.

My own promise binds me so is the risk involved,

I’m no funambulist, swift and sharp tight rope walker,

Although I gape at locals crossing with ease,

Some cheering me up, some giving me a hand.

Arrives an angel at the right time,

“It’s an adventure, a thrill worth experiencing,

Says, he, and seeing me hesitant and frightened,

Let’s go together, watching the scenic landscape around.”

Still trembling I hold his confident hands,

An unmatched aplomb draws me towards him,

With baby steps I commence on this daring bridge,

His constant chirping keeps me digressed.

Despite a strong wind or the gurgling brook below,

I look down once or twice, thirsty I become,

Yet, he takes me to the other side, with a mystic elan,

And, I can’t thank my little monk enough.

“I love helping people cross the bridge,

To hope and courage they finally journey,

Witnessing their contented smiles I’m honoured,”

And, he shows me the entry door of the monastery.