Zywa Islands and bridges

Bridges are no riches
anymore, they don't offer space
but rush

over my head, they separate
people and confine them
to an island without energy

a void that exhausts me
and that I cannot fill
with the contacts I make

over all the bridges
with which I make shift
for lack of time

to go out the door
and explore my island
a while without agenda

having casual conversations
and meet neighbours
who I can touch

Poem 2423
Amsterdam, 2019-09-23

Collection: Changing Times 
Keyword: Bridge 
Zywa
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