Bridges We Keep

(ahhhh) My mother's kitchen smelled of distant rain

Of spices ground

with heavy stone and pain

My father's accent carved the northern hills

Two different worlds, two stubborn,

silent wills

I spent a lifetime hiding in the gray

Tearing half of myself

away

But I am the bridge where the rivers meet

Two lines of history

under my feet

I don't have to choose,

I will carry them both

In the branches

of my own growth

I hear their voices talking in my sleep

No longer secrets that I have to keep

One gave me roots,

the other gave me wings

Now I am playing on

both sets of strings

No more hiding,

no more feeling small

I will stand here and answer the call

Because I am the bridge where the rivers meet

Two lines of history

under my feet

I don't have to choose,

I will carry them both In the branches

of my own growth (carry them both!)

I am the bridge... (mmmmm)