The Devil's Backbone, Oxford (UK) and Wainui Falls bridge, Golden Bay, Abel Tasman (NZ)

Devil’s Backbone, Oxford. Photo by Max Parfitt

Devil’s Backbone

I used to come here and watch the trains –
wheels locked to ice-cold rails,
rattling past,

unstoppable.

The steady pulse of the passenger train,
the ratatat speed of the freight that shakes
the bridge and makes the children
(perched in expectation)
gawp and giggle as it cuts by.

I used to come and watch the lake –
watch the waters ripple and the ripples whisper,
and the whispers fade to stillness.

I came in winter – hand in hand –
and came in spring and summer too,
and still, when I need to pause,
listen,
remember,

I come here like I used to.

by Max Parfitt

Wainui Falls bridge, Golden Bay, Abel Tasman. Photo by Kat Mason

Wainui Falls Bridge

She used to cling to my hand every crossing
Today she runs ahead
Feet light on the swaying bridge
A thread of steel strung high
Above river and rock
I pause
Breath held
She turns, calling
Cushioned by the insect-clamour of the bush
The rush and roar of water below
I cannot hear her
There’s wildness in her eyes
She does not need me
Yet waves me forward
I step unsteady
She jumps and I stumble
The bridge rolling beneath me
There’s a bellbird’s laughter
As she returns to me
And I cling to her hand like she used to.

by Kat Mason

Kat and Max wrote reflective, poetic epistles to each other

Kat:

Who knew that writing about bridges
Would take me on a journey that spans
Countries and continents,
Seasons and decades.

I am so cushioned here,
Surrounded by intensity –
The joyous youth of the country I now live in
Reflected in riotous birdsong,
Saturated colour,
Sunshine.

I have forgotten the subtlety of the English winter.
Breath in clouds,
Blending with the mist that rises
From colour-leached fields.

Now, in the rush and tumble
Of this unstable, shaking land,
I find myself dreaming of your bridge:
That spine across the still lake.

I walk steady in the cold air,
Feet sturdy on frosted concrete.
Imagine skipping a stone,
Across its mirror surface –

Awakening the lady.
Her hand rising from the depths
Sword in hand.

****

Max:

You take me to a place I do not know –
show me rocks and rivers.
A thread of steel stitched across an unknown world.

I am lost in the clamour of insects and bellbirds
I have never heard;
in a moment I can never hear
between mother and daughter, half a world away.

But I know that touch.

The bond between hand held and hand holder.

Remember when I used to run
and jump and fall and dash ahead.
Remember when, chocolate-grinning,
I splashed in puddles,
swung on streetlamps,
danced between kerbs –

your hand constant at my back.

When I pause it seems I ran here in a daze.

But I feel you, still, behind me.