We walk carefree on Wettstein Bridge
a companion and I.
Our minds drift like white, light clouds.
Our bodies tingle as rare rays
kiss our sun-starved frames.
Below the swelling River Rhine,
brown after three days of rain,
licks its banks, churns up logs
and bush collected while
coursing through the land.
Midway across the bridge
a man leaning against the rail,
tossing his clothing in the air,
puts the brakes on our carefree stroll.
We watch his shoes plunge,
watch trousers and shirt float down
into the lurching river.
Is he going to jump,
dive like some reckless people do
when besotted by the sun?
Should we pause,
beg him to think it over
plead for sanity?
We run, our minds revolting against
the thought, pass him clinging to the railings.
We hope someone would hug him
as we dash away, disbelieving
that we may witness a dead soul leaping.
Life within us screams
We listen for the splash.
Across the bridge,
we look back as though stalked,
see a small crowd gathering,
scan the river for a white body swirling,
bobbing among debris in brown water.
Our hearts beat out our shame.
Another sight deadens our guilt.
A woman, knocked down. lies bleeding
I whip my cell phone out.
This is decidable, will be sorted.
© Althea Mark-Romeo 1999
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