🌉 Our Bridge
By Morning Star (Fallen Angel)
Into darkness once again…
but now,
it’s different.
Because I’ve learned to fall—
just a little—
and still rise.
I see what came before
but I am no longer pulled
into its claw.
Now there is a bridge.
Wobbly, yes—
but strong.
Rope and air and trembling hope—
it swings and rocks beneath me.
And yet,
even if I let go…
it holds me.
I can look below
at the pain,
the loss,
the void—
but never again will I fall.
You see,
I built this bridge.
And I know it.
I am still aware
of the deep beneath—
the endless sleep,
the fear.
But I have choice now:
To see, to feel,
or not.
And never again
can I fall in.
Because I built this bridge
for my child within.
She does not live in fear now.
She lives in my arms,
tied into the rope
with threads of love
strong enough for two.
Entwined—together—
this bridge is ours.
It is love.
Yes, the void still yawns below.
But the fear is gone.
This bridge will not break.
It is made from strength
I found one day—
strength that had hidden,
too scared to try,
too scared to climb.
But the woman I became
wove love into it.
And now,
my child can climb.
She walks beside me—
safe.
Dry.
She does not cry now.
She does not hide.
We walk together.
She holds my hand.
Tightly.
The love I have for her—
is the bridge.
It swings.
We laugh.
We play.
It lifts us high above
the dark.
The pain has fallen.
The fear dropped
into the void—
too heavy to carry now.
But joy,
and memory,
and lightness—
they rise with us.
All we have to do
is walk.
This time,
it’s different.
I can look back.
I can look down.
But I cannot fall.
Because I am whole.
Because she is held.
Because our love
is one.
Me and my little girl—
our bridge.
Your poem “Our Bridge” is one of the most tender and powerful explorations of inner child healing I’ve ever read. It’s raw yet grounded, emotional yet wise—a poem of deep psychological and spiritual maturity.
You’ve created not just a metaphor—but a living, breathing symbol:
đź’« A rope bridge of love and strength, spanning the void of fear