Burning Bridges

Picture Copyright © 2012 Lindsey Buehrer

How long have I stared at that bridge and done nothing?  Years.  That's the answer, years.  Freedom just on the other side and yet I sit and wait for the moment to come when it's all over.  But, how is it possible to live like that?  That's what my dear sister used to ask me.  I suppose she is now my inspiration.  I now have to cross that bridge in her memory.

My sister was everything to me.  She was smart, funny, courageous, beautiful. A loving caring person as well as a fighter.  She knew what she believed in and she acted on it.  That's why they took her.  She had a way with the people; she could rally them with just a few well-placed whispers.

Before, I used to sit across on the banks and look at the fiery burning light of the Over Town.  All of their beautiful lights that glowed hazy and red across the river awed my soul and I couldn't get enough of the sight.  Sometimes my sister would sit with me and we would just peacefully watch the lights twinkling on the other side.  My sister dreamed to see the streets in person someday.

Now that is what I dream.  I dream it because it was her dream and they took her because she believed she had the right.  She, and all of us, should be free to go wherever we please and do whatever we like.  My sister said it didn't matter how we grew up or from where we came.  Some of the people believed her; a lot of people wanted deeply to.  

So, on the eve of a new year, I led a revolution in the name of my sister.  We cautiously moved through town on our side of the bridge until we got to the last sorry, leaning building in town.  We huddled behind it and planned our next move.  Eight of us would provide a distraction to lead the guards away from the bridge while the remaining ten would storm the entrance and muscle our way through to the other side.  What we did when we got there was still unplanned.

Quietly, with our breath steaming around us, we waited as the eight rebels swung back behind the crumbling building to create a distraction.  The wait was beginning to frighten me, it seemed like it had been too long.  But then, a great light erupted not too far from where we were hiding.  We watched the guards react in surprise and then they dashed off to investigate.  A large fire was burning from a warehouse that was challenging the light from across the river.  

Quickly the group I led rushed the bridge.  With no one to guard it, the job was an easy one.  We raced down the bridge feeling the cold air against our faces.  We held out our weapons in front of us, just in case of ambush.  At the midpoint of the bridge we paused to regroup.  I turned around to face our town.  The fire had spread down the waterfront.  All of the old and dying buildings that stood there sadly were in flames.  The trees below were burning and the fire wasn't yet finished.  I prayed that it didn't creep near the housing that lay just beyond the first block.

   

The last few of the rebellion caught us up and we, now having caught our breath, were moving again cautiously toward the far side of the river to Over Town.  We had been told stories of Over Town for our entire lives.  The elders used these stories to keep us occupied while our parents went to slave away in the factories that now burned at our backs.  These stories told of rich men and women dancing and feasting in glorious gowns under the ever burning lamps.  Lamps, the elders said, that could be turned on with a simple switch.  To young impressionable children, the concept was so far stretched.  

As we crept toward our freedom, a euphoria seemed to be seeping into our bones.  It was becoming more difficult to remain composed as the sight of freedom loomed right in front of us.  The beauty of the lamps that glowed so brightly captivated us.  If my sister were still alive, she'd have some calming words of wisdom to instill in the group.  We wouldn't be getting as worked up in the light of all the events around us.  My sister, who knew and inspired so many of the people I was leading, always knew the right thing to say.  

The end of the bridge was nearing and we tried to start staying in the shadows that the bridge created around us.  The light was our salvation.  We moved silently along the metal rungs of the bridge, practically holding our breath so as to not make a sound.  Then the alarm bell began tolling from the depths of the town behind us.  We could hear screams slicing through the air.  We had a choice: Turn back to help our own or march forward to freedom.  What would my sister have done?  I knew the answer, but we were so incredibly close to the other side now.

I tore back through the group, headed to help back in the town.  My sister would have helped her people.  Guilt rained down on me, I should have turned back to help when I saw the waterfront burning.  What would happen now?  All our places of work up in flames.  No prospects of food or money to buy food anywhere in our future.  But then I had an idea.  Something that no one could overlook. 

We raced back in to the town we had so desperately tried to leave.  Pandemonium was in the streets.  Our little group went around trying to calm everyone down, telling them to meet by the bridge in an hour with anything from home they could easily carry.  Spread the message, we told them.  We hurried through town to help; we rescued people from buildings and helped them to the bridge.  The whole town was soon to be on fire.  The fire had been too keenly kindled and the properties of our riverside were too desolate and old to withstand such trauma.  

An hour later, we headed back to the bridge to find over two hundred people standing shivering by the river.  We mounted the steps to the bridge and they looked up with fear and despair in their eyes.  Then I spoke, embodied by my sister's strength and spirit.

"My friends, we have every right to cross this bridge to safety.  We can overcome this tragedy if we move together as one people.  A people who have the right to work.  A people who have the right to live and be happy.  A people who have the right to have a warm bed and a full stomach.  We can leave all of this behind us if we leave now."

I had seen what it would be like if we stayed.  Bewitched by the lights, I knew that if we stayed we would all die much sooner rather than later.  This was the fate my sister had foreseen and now I saw it too.  We had our choice and the opportunity rose grandly in front of all of us now.  

The rebellion had begun.  We were now choosing to refuse to live in poverty where we had no lights, no heat, and hardly any food.  We were packing up our lives while our town burned behind us and we crossed the bridge in one grand display.  They cannot take what is rightfully ours!  On the far side of the bridge we came up to the guards.  They turned and looked at the mass crossing the bridge.  I could see a crowd of people already gathering on the other side of the guards, curious to see such a bright light coming from the dark side of the river.  

What a sight we must have been all covered in soot looking like we'd never bathed in our lives.  But, something in that appearance stirred compassion in the crowd below.  The guards were severely outnumbered by our townsfolk, a mere four to over two hundred.  Wives, husbands, children disturbed from their slumber in the dead of night all rallied together to freedom.  We were begrudgingly allowed to pass from the bridge into Over Town because the crowd was welcoming us.  The ladies, with no regard to their sparkling dresses, ushered us toward the center of town and helped us find food, water, and shelter.  We all stood in the gleaming lights and found it all to be wonderful.

How had we ever thought that Over Town was full of terrible people?  Even the rich have human hearts, my sister used to say, you just have to find a way into them. 


Burning Bridges © 2012 Katherine Kovanda