The Bridge

Even now, I’m unsure when it all happened

What I do know is that, at some point,

More likely, over several seemingly minuscule moments,

It happened,

So fast.

The end of an era,

The end of life.

Yet, I wasn’t alone when it happened, no,

Others were there as well, but, somehow, those who were with me were

Just as blinded from the truth.

We didn’t know.

Nobody told us.

We were trained as runners, fighters, survivors.

Taught that if we run hard enough and fast enough,

We would one day reach the goal,

The purpose of it all.

So, we ran, ran as fast as the throbbing legs beneath us would carry.

Passing signs that stated what we were doing.

Past the ones standing at the gates keeping watch.

Past the edge of the well-known prairie,

Onto the exotic terrain,

To a lonely bridge.

There was no hesitation; we encouraged each other on

With glancing smirks, mirth, and merriment.

Across the bridge, we surged.

Never had youth brought us this far.

It lasted days,

Our thrill.

It contagiously rushed through our veins,

Blinding us to a truth no more hidden than the sun .

In the heavens, is where we first

Caught sight.

Circling.

Over our head were foreign monsters

The word of legends, myths, stories recited to children.

None thought they were true.

It was then.

With fear in our eyes.

We understood what we had done.

Though nothing in our past prepared us for this,

The only hearts to blame were those in the cage of our chests.

After all, we chose to run.

We chose death.

The end of an era,

Ending a life,

Of innocents.