You must find the bridge

You can find it or build it; both are the same

No two people will agree on everything.
Even twins can share an impassible gulf.
He’s obsessed with coffee; she insists on tea—
And a road is closed between them.

For others, the gulf can be even wider and deeper.
It’s more than “road closed.” It is a raging river.
And if they dare to step into the current, it’s all chaos and foam.
So they avoid it and wander alone.

How do you bring your adversary closer?
You must find the bridge.
The bridge is the avenue where conversation can flow
Without controversy or resistance.

The bridge looks like many things.
You can call it shared understanding.
It can be small talk or a peace summit,
It’s a safe space for discourse.

Instead of trading ideas in a turbulent river,
The bridge lets you practice on a “stable” surface.
You need neutral territory because you most definitely have a bias.
The bridge is the space between extremes.

I say “stable” because it’s human-made.
Every bridge requires active maintenance and repair.
And a bridge can start impossibly narrow—
In fact, every bridge must start this way:

Two words of high school Spanish in a rural village.
An offer of a French fry to a seagull.
A hand on a shoulder terminating silence.
A soccer ball on a battlefield on Christmas Day.

This bridge affords a safe passage between minds.
This is what you pay therapists for, by the way.
Even if you hate someone with every fiber of your being,
There is a bridge between you—because we are all family.

You can find it or build it; both are the same.
Bridges let you leave your island—
Which isn’t even “yours” in the first place:
It’s just where you happen to be.

Bridges are “no place,” and thus, utopia.
Stripped of culture, bridges serve only function—
To allow the intersection of private tornados,
So you may mingle in your fundamental oneness.