© 2011 Glen Sorestad

Suspension of Belief

Cables, ropes and wooden slats
create a seemingly fragile
sagging arc high above
the crash and dash
of Capilano Canyon.
I am five.

In my eyes this is not
a bridge—but rather,
some adult deceit
designed to instill fear
in a small boy.

Father takes my hand,
envelopes it in warmth,
strength and security
a child comes to accept
as truth. "Come on,"
he says.

I step forward.
Beneath my feet
my faith and my trust
teeter and sway
side to side,
nothing beneath me
but a void
my fear has filled.

"No," I say.