“Why’re you waiting at the bridge?” I asked.
“Waiting to cross,” was his reply.
“Well, let’s go ahead now it’s clear.”
“The water is still passing, look down there!”
I went my way and then returned,
By then he must have felt the sun burn.
“I see you are still waiting old chap
Even though I went and now come back.”
“Well, there is a lengthy flow today,
It never stopped while you were away.
But patience is a virtue some would say,
So I guess I am in for a very long stay.”
“But what has water there to do with here?
And what is it that you really fear?
The bridge has held for many a year,
And by the way the water’s not even near.”
But while he gazed disconcertingly down,
His expression took on a quizzical frown.
“Should the bridge collapse I would drown.”
And he said this while he looked around.
“Look around and tell me what you see,
There’s nobody here but you and me.
Should I be thrown in that watery strife
Would you jump in and save my life?”
“It wouldn’t make sense,” I said to him.
“Then two would be gone, I cannot swim.
It’s better you wait till the water passes on
But if the bridge collapses you’d still be gone.
Whether by drowning or a bashed-in head,
It really doesn’t matter you’d still be dead.
I’ll take my chance on the bridge holding up
Rather than traverse life like a frightened pup.”
I went my way but next day he was there,
Still transfixed by his mortal fear.
I asked again, “Why are you waiting here?”
“Oh, I have a fear of heights, isn’t that clear?”
This fore-day morning just before I woke
I titter-tottered on a slope, no joke.
And just when I could hold on no more
I woke up from sleep lying on the floor.
Every one of us has a phobia or fear,
None of us traverses life without fret or care.
By day it bothers us way down deep
And at night it torments us even in our sleep.
Psychiatrists and psychologists try to stem
But fears and phobias also affect them.
Whatever your fear of phobia my friend
You’ll have to cross some bridge at the end.
Stewart Russell © 2015
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