Can't Cross What's Broken

Barely visible yet discernible,
Path crowded with lush,
Fern and brush.
Scraping along flesh, thorns defend,
Prickly leaves lash out; bitter bites.
Clearing away branches, avoiding,
Bark whips, sudden stillness due to a sight;
Rustic and worn,
Split in half down the middle.
A bridge entirely made of iron.
On the other side, its continuation,
Inclines to face the sky.
Below, the watery creek marks,
Darkens pillars.
Seeing a rowboat amongst reeds.
Simply abandoned, left to rot,
Just like the crumbling bridge,
And what became of me.