in the twin cities there is a bridge
which continues to join
the twin cities together
for years, for decades
the kids in middle school
on the side of the river
populated by white people
referred to the bridge as
the longest bridge in the world
because it stretched from
the United States of America
all the way to Africa
when i was in middle school
i remember riding my bike
over that bridge
as a sort of rite of passage
from innocence to prejudice
wanting it known to all
that i rode my bike over
the longest bridge in the world
and when i arrived
on the side of the river
populated by black people
what struck me like lightning
were the numbers of steeples
atop black churches
stretching high into the heavens
with crosses atop the steeples
stretching out even higher
almost appearing to get lost up there
like lightning itself
which joins the heavens to earth
and it struck me that
the longest bridge in the world
is not horizontal
the longest bridge in the world
is vertical
it starts in heaven
and stretches all the way down to earth
with enough love
to bridge the hearts
of people of every color
and from that day forward
i knew the truth about bridges
the shortest bridge in the world
is always the one between you and me
if only one of us will cross over