Bridge of Love | A Poem for Pont des Arts

I had been reading the news for days –
but it wasn’t until I saw the news clip,
(each wire mesh railing being removed
by large, unromantic trucks)
that my chest got heavy and I choked
back a whole beautiful moment,
resting in a lavender lock—attached
forever to a railing destined for
the Paris graveyard of love, locked.

The locks, thousands of pounds of
metal – engraved, painted, scribbled,
scratched upon. Lover’s names.
Dates. Partners. Spouses. Mistresses.
Love made and love scorned.
Love kept hidden – or boasted.

A bit of longing for forever,
held steady in a place that
would stand, outlast each traveler.
Each story, over water —
as millions of bridge-crossers
passed by, thinking of the stories
of lovers who had tossed their
keys into the Seine below.

We locked, kissed, and threw a key…
in the middle of Paris.
A moment planned for and executed
with all the passion our hearts could
muster. Because, no matter how our life
played out, we knew that at least forever,
our names were locked, together,
over a river we might never walk over
a second time.

Our lock, purple, center.

More on the removal of the love locks, HERE >>.

**note: I understand why they need to remove the locks and I don’t oppose the decision. I just simply wish they would put them somewhere else they can be seen – a museum, a city art project, something.**