A Bridge To Home Poem by Barry Middleton

To swim the river was to risk death;
but I have returned to the river;
and now I see there is a bridge.

Before, it was hidden around a bend;
it was obscured by fog and mist;
it was mysterious like the farther bank.

Men die but once; so why am I afraid?
Across the bridge must wait eternity,
where once I lived in perfect harmony.

But death, I believe, is not like life.
Is a pristine river still flowing there?
Is there a hidden lost bridge to home?