This Poem was Submitted By: Ellen K Lewis On Date: 2007-01-07 11:48:20 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Girl On the Bridge

The air was stale with the smoke of many cigarettes and polluted by  foul words  spoken too loudly laughter that implied something was hilarious.... But the beer was cold.  At least there was some compensation for the misery of that summer night. The two of them went to work on a long old argument, as if it would finally be the last of it  and some solution might be found. One of them went to far.   In a drunken moment she took off on a run. For a minute he just stood there, then yelled at her, "Get back here!" She turned to wave him off, fell in the graveled pavement, got up and ran again. He decided he'd bring her back.   But his feet and his brain were not working together.  He did his best as he gathered momentum to keep from running on all fours. Someone called a cop.  The officer arrives to find them both running along the ditch. He secures his car and goes after them on foot. She finds herself in a situation.  She will have to climb back up onto the roadway. She clings to the ground,  clawing for someplace to pull herself up.   He has almost reached her.  He is yelling again. "Stop this foolishness! Get back here" but she tunes him out while she devises her plan. She made it up the embankment and turned to see him coming. She threatened to jump, he called her a drunk and reached to pull her hand. He was stupified at her words. "I'm a better swimer than you are-  so catch me if you can!"  And she dove off the bridge she had just climbed. The dry riverbed was unforgiving. She was 22, he is now 31. It took her 4 years to die.   One day at a time he fed her, encouraged her. He helped her dress and did his best with her hair.  It broke his spirit and her bones. He did his best to make her happy after that.  She couldn't move, but she could think and her brain was always busy. She really loved him.  He was doing so much for her.   He brought her fresh flowers and read the dailey newspaper to her.   He brought her toast with 'jelly faces' and they would both laugh. She loved him so much. If only...... No one will ever really know the truth about that night.   He tried a thousand times to replay it ,  but the scene kept changing and in the end,  he really wasn't sure anymore.

Copyright © January 2007 Ellen K Lewis

Additional Notes:
True story, with added fiction....was listening to the police scanner one night and wrote as this scene unfolded....by the time EMS had taken her to the hospital and him to jail, I was in tears for these two. Don't really know the ending of the true story, so made one up to 'fit' the tragedy and to bring it to a close.

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-01-22 17:29:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Ellen....this is such a sad tale and the fact that it is true is even more sad. I think you did an excellent job of writing this and because you were so struck and saddened by it I know writing it could not have been easy. I did notice one typo..."one of them went (to) far"...should be 'too' unless there is a hidden meangin that I missed. Well done...thanks for posting this one. Blessings...Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-01-12 17:17:36
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
So very tragic and yet so well presented. Your words bring us to the beginning of this tragic incident; one can see the two running, falling, climbing, clinging to whatever to make it to the top.......you hear his words to her and hers to him and then the jump.........the thud as she hits the empty dry riverbed below.......Both suffered intense pain; hers broke her body and his broke his spirit...........the love between these two must have been deep at one point in time.........you have given this closure befitting this one. I would assume you heard the voice on the scanner over and over repeating this call for help for some time. Thanks for posting, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2007-01-12 12:45:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, Such a heavy hitting piece, puts the mind to wonder why more isn't said about these incidents; sometimes they are just a blurp and then nothing more, as if they were nothing. You've given these characters dignity, something they may never have had in life, now at least their lives have served a purpose-poignant, tragic and all too common.. social lessons for us to learn from. Thank you for this gripping read, I can find no nit with this accomplished write. Lora
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mary J Coffman On Date: 2007-01-10 10:53:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ellen, This heartwrenching write is wrought with both sadness and despair, yet so expertly expressed. It goes right to the readers heart, making us 'feel' every raw emotion you enclose within these painful lines. You write so we can 'see' the whole scene unfolding before our own eyes...as if we were actually there. My heart ached for them as I read, and tears welled in my own eyes. Alcohol destroys lives. I have lost loved ones to it's ill effects in the past, and I can honestly say, from first-hand experience, those scars never heal. They simply fade to resurface every now and then reminding us of what we've lost and why. The "added fiction" at the end is very approprite, and well devised. Thanks for sharing this, and reminding me once again why I no longer drink. Brava! Sincerely, Mary
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-01-09 09:40:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Ellen, again as with many of my poems, we touch close to the debate that deals with discerning between poetry and prose. In such a story as you weave here, the poetic calling card is, that it is woven. In prose, it is still adequate, not needing any expansion to provide context. An odd thing to accomplish, to satisfy the requirements of both genres. The poetry is in the way you have chosen to tell the story. What might be take as a break in transition in prose, here is the blank to be filled in by poetic illusion. The stanzas are not transitionally linked as paragraphs would be in prose, room for imagination. The device, "If only...", again not resolving enough for prose, room for imagination. The interpretaion of inside mental workings not your own, "he really wasn't sure anymore", license, again, beyond that prose allows (when you haven't developed that point of view.) But it is more than poetry by exclusion, it is the compact and feeling way to tell of tragedy we see too often around our mortal construction, where momentary mistake can lead to life-long consequence. You create in the mind, so much better by the imagery, the questions readers must ponder. Like that of troubling between cause: devotion or guilt. And that is where this succeeds as poetry. JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2007-01-08 19:58:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
this is a powerful piece, I like the way you constructed each little sceen in individual stanzas Ellen and also I like the way it reads..some of my favorite lines are.. "The two of them went to work on a long old argument" and also the ending of the first stanza, like an after thought just dangling "but the beer was cold". I can see why you would be in tears.
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