There is a bridge between Malawi and me.
It seems to be safe.
It seems to be sturdy.
I could run across it.
It wouldn’t be difficult to walk across it.
All I have to do is cross it.
But I stand here uncertain.
I want to run to Malawi.
His very presence beckons to me.
But does he want me to come to him?
He does not call to me.
He does not shout out my name.
He stands on his side of the bridge
And I stand on mine.
I could run across it
It would be so easy to run across it.
It would be so easy to run across it to him.
But he turns and walks away.