Burned Bridges

Burned Bridges

Self reflection doesn’t become me
It gets lost in weeds of regret and yesterdays
That cannot change
No matter the tears
Branches off in petty arguments
With a younger visage
Who did this or such
Before I could change her path
I know why each thought was thought and why
Each river was forded before
The burned Bridges
With not a care for those left in the eddies
Of marsh grasses and cattails
Awareness of self with all ego
And subterfuge
Understanding each calculated deception
And artifice
Takes too much
Patience
And more than is possible
Forgiveness

33 thoughts on “Burned Bridges

  1. Self-reflection is kind of a matter of becoming – in a way – and yet as you say – doesn’t become sometimes. Or at least we feel that way. Agh! Your poem is one that is very easy to relate to. Thanks. k.

  2. Ah, but there is nothing more changeable than the past. We change it each day with our retellings. To me it seems more mutable than the present or our dreams of the future. Get the Weedwacker out and tell a different story. Imagine what it should have been. Put words to it. Feel the Magick!

  3. Burned bridges are the pits and it really can veer off into random directions. Unfortunately, we all do it and even more unfortunately, more than once too.

    Nancy

  4. Interesting to read the beginning, that self reflection doesn’t become you, but then the poem seems to be self-reflective.in a way. I do think sometimes we have to get beyond the burned bridges if they can no longer be repaired, and perhaps not try to figure out the why’s of things that have already passed…..and instead resolve to start anew today. Just my thoughts after having read your poem.

    • I thought that was funny too – that it became a very reflective poem after that first declarative line. And yes, sometimes burned bridges are just that and we move on. Thanks, Mary, I always appreciate you time and comments! K

  5. @ Kathleen,
    Great opening. This opening reminded me of certain contemplation traditions where some techniques are deemed unhealthy for certain personality/disposition types. Learning the type of critter we are is so important.

    But this poem is really one of regret, isn’t it? Regret for those harmed by your former self. Ahhh, but if you were to live 50 more years, how would this self talk to today’s. “More carelessness lass!”, perhaps.
    Smile.
    Very nicely done.

  6. mmm…i have had to do this in life…the letting go of things…the burning bridges so they have no route to make it back and so that i could live once more outside of its shadow….felt piece…

  7. i feel you in this…there def. are things that can’t be changed anymore and maybe then it’s a good choice to make peace with the situation and burn the bridges so that it no longer haunts us, as long as there’s a small spark of hope, i would fight though

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