I visited the Rio Grande Gorge bridge this weekend.
It is a beautiful structure, spanning a beautiful expanse of nature. The gorge is a testament to the power of water through time, carved into the flat terrain as if some supernatural hand dragged a giant stick across the landscape.
There are locks and mementos -- little pieces of lives linked to the bridge. What are the stories behind them, I wonder?
Across the bridge there are various spots in the railings where one can stand and look out across the gorge. And there, in the spaces, are these call boxes:
This simple box, with the handwritten scrawl of you are loved, is heart-wrenching. You can almost feel the despair surrounding it. And I wonder: who is there on the other side of that red button? And is that person's voice reaching out, enough to tie a soul to this earth, when the wind whips and the chasm yawns and hope seems to be lost?
Broken souls: I am sorry that the abyss called you to it, and I hope you are at peace now. And I wish for all of you who struggle, that you may find tranquility and solace when you need it most.
Fortunate are we who know individuals who, purely through their presence, allow us to feel repaired, at ease, and most ourselves. And grateful are we, beyond measure, for the time together. Always.
Blue October, Not Broken Anymore.