The Bridge Is Out

By Heidi Ranscheart

Textiled surfaces
Like a patch of skin that’s scarred.
Without any shoes,
I’ll step close to the river It’s deep
It’s cold
In a few minutes more,
My feet will be numb
My laughter rings out
Taunts the leering stars
“Do you think I’m frightened?”

The sun’s been swallowed whole
The forest keeps its prize.
There’s a figure standing there,
On the other side
Bending slightly in the wind
A lone reed
Made smaller by the trees

I’ll dip one foot in,
Then two,
I know the current’s strong
Madness, something whispers,
But the water isn’t so cold now
Is this feeling giddy?
No
Dreamlike
I tread on fear and cold stones

The water circles my waist
Streaming silver
I’ll catch little rivulets
It beckons me downstream
But no,
You tempter,
My eyes are on the shoreline

Somewhere in the woods
I know there’s a house
To reach it, I must swim
To reach you, I might drown

The moment slows to a stop
Arms out, up,
Light glinting on outstretched limbs
From far away, perhaps I’m a swan,
“I am not afraid of you.”

I hold my breath and take the plunge

Heidi Ranscheart loves frosted leaves, fairy tales, and her home state of Michigan. An author and illustrator, she wields keyboard and paintbrush both to bring forth detailed beauty. During her time at JPCatholic, she completed a novel in addition to many works of short fiction, poetry, and drawings, and graduated with a double emphasis in illustration and creative writing. 

Abigail Alsop is a traditional mixed media illustrator who spends as much time as she can outdoors, admiring the sky and soaking up the sunshine. Her brightly colored artwork is an innate reflection of her vibrant and spontaneous personality. Believing that love and vulnerability walk hand in hand, Abigail boldly shares her empathetic heart through art and poetry as inspiration arises.