YU Observer October Poetry Feature: Faith

By: Yair Shavrick  |  November 1, 2020
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Bridges

By Yair Shavrick, Opinions Editor

I dreamt I was a road

Weaving all around an island.

Not a perfect road

Yet at a glance, complete. 

Used like any other road,

A transportation device

To be used and then forgotten. 

From the ground which I lay

I could see another land,

Abundant in the pleasantries 

To which I deeply desire.

There is only one way 

I could own this paradise,
But somehow it isn’t 

Reliant on my volition. 

I plead with my creator,

Build me to the better land.

The answer pierces my heart-

A dagger of false truths.

 

Bridges are for broken roads

This rips through the tears

Of which my dry eyes weep,

To accept such a poisonous complacency

Would be a disservice to myself.

So I build my own beautiful bridge

Basking in its glorious structure,

Which reaches out to the beauty

I’ve painstakingly longed for. 

I look back to my original road

Potholes and broken lines

Riddled with gravel and wear.

My happiness now ever-abundant

From my journey so crucial 

To my success and beauty.

I turn to my creator 

A smug smile on my face,

And I notice Her smiling back.

My bridge is appreciated and used

Only because I want it to be;

For no one but myself.

The sweetest words dance

Off my lips in complete euphoria

To the one I despised

And relied on most. 

 

Bridges aren’t for broken roads; they’re for the ones who dream

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