Poetry “Judgment Bridge”

When I got my first tattoo, I though my family would freak out. In some cases that might be accurate.  As I have aged, I have collected several.  Now my first tattoo is merely something I consider a cute little spot of ink.

In a way, I guess I covered some my scars with ink.  That ink runs up and down both arm and on to my back.  Even in this day and age of acceptance of tattoos, I still get the judgmental looks.  Don’t think for a second it bothers me one bit.  I am proud of my ink and the scars that they cover.

Many police departments require their officers to keep their tattoos covered.  I guess that is their decision. If it were mine, I would say put them out there, let people know that behind that badge and under that uniform is still a human being.  That is what inspired this poem.

This photograph is taken about three miles from my house.  A small one lane bridge where the local artwork changes on a weekly basis.  I love everything about that. The hardest thing about this poem was whether to spell Judgement or Judgment.  Obviously I chose the later.

I can not thank you all enough for taking a look at Judgment Bridge. If you keep reading I will keep writing, good, bad, or indifferent.  Either way, I am having a blast!

Judgment Bridge.jpg

 

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