Hello, equals.

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We met us from the other side,
The slick log in between.
We comment from our store of “prove it,”
(Currency unspent when childhood crashed):
“Remember when you had to cross?”
A laugh hides “I might fall.”
And Christopher waits cheerful,
One-armed waving as he holds his Bear,
One mossy step from hopping up and skipping over-log.
We used to skip; a tromping party owed a log a cross.
Our wirey boys with airplane arms,
Uncertain flaps the only sign of shaking of their nerve,
Set stork feet down and gripped with toes the shreds of rotting wood.
They crossed from child to knightly man;
They lept and turned and landed on their feet,
Now noble, honored, grown.
We landed here. And we won’t cross again,
But something in the Us that’s over there,
Sweet Christopher still clinging to his Bear,
Has equal joy to us, and honor too,
A knightly valor equal to our own.
His play will turn to war, as ours has done;
The “turn and turn alike” in time will come.
We all have made our crossings, great and grim.
He’ll come to us; we’ll not return to him.