Two Contrasting Poems

1

and look across the gap

© 2007 Manuel Erickson

I don't want to remember the Kinsol:


I want to walk on its curve, smell its wood beams,

hear its creaks in the wind.

I want to stand in the middle,

listen to the rumble of Koksilah's rapids below;


I want to know the cuff-linked

architects who designed it,

the bearded, rough workers who built it,

the stripe-hatted train crews who drove smoky locies across it;


I don't want to look at

a mere replacement:

smaller, narrower, less sturdy

and know that it severs me

from my history, culture, tradition:

no replacement can "be" the Kinsol Trestle.


I want to walk on the Kinsol

like the hikers from near and far

who gather at each unapproachable end—

and look across the gap.


2

closing the gap

© 2011 Manuel Erickson

I don't need to remember the Kinsol:


I can walk on its curve, smell its wood beams,

hear its creaks in the wind.

When I stand in the middle

I hear the sweet music of Koksilah's rapids below;


in my imagination I know the cuff-linked

architects who designed it,

the bearded, rough workers who built it,

the stripe-hatted train crews who drove smoky locies across it;


for this is no mere replacement:

though narrower, it is not less sturdy;

this trestle joins me

to my history, culture, tradition:

this is the Kinsol Trestle.


I walked on the Kinsol with a crowd of thousands,

joined hikers and bikers from near and far

gathered at each closed-in gap,

shared smiles, laughter, chatter and happiness

as we walked from one end to the other.