The Bridge

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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The Holy Spirit manages the bridge before me.

It guards the tollbooth with holy hand outstretched.

The toll it requires is my ego.

All that I imagine I am.

All the crazy, negative thoughts

roaming loose in my mind.

All the judgments, complaints, and criticisms

are part of the fee.

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I must also pay with my body,

this skin suit I identify as me

that the Holy Spirit won’t admit through the gate.

It requires payment of my past and future

because this bridge crosses over

to the eternal present.

*

And so, I wait in line,

wondering if I can let go of the five senses:

the glorious fragrance of rosemary, eucalyptus,

cedar, sandalwood.

The feel of cat’s fur, orange peel, silk.

The sound of gospel harmonies, rain,

happy children.

The view of waving leaves,

their shadows on the wall.

And colors.

Yes, colors.

And taste.  Cucumbers and chocolate,

steamed rice, curry.

*

It’s no loss to toss the negative thoughts.

Who needs those?

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