There are challenges to life and then there are life’s challenges…
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
Upon a Street Crossing
There are no martyrs on fifth avenue, even though trying
to cross a hazy trafficked street is a crazy affair at 5 o’clock.
I prefer, in my heart of hearts, to wait until 9 PM
to cross, when the head lights shine a path
that I can follow. Nobody though, not even a stranger, stands on a deserted corner
hoping to make it safely across. There is no challenge to life’s crossings then.
It is only those times when the streets are polluted
with rush hour traffic that you can be a seer, steeling
yourself against the dangers and the secrets of oncoming
and imminent death. Events drive like they are taking no prisoners,
and I cross like I was still in childhood, twisting with laughter,
with a hop, skip, and a slight jump; my hand out in front of me
to magically stop a 2 ton vehicle in its tracks,
and making it out of the 5 o’clock shadows to the corner alive and exhilarated,
I have saved this spiritual diamond for another day’s
ebullient escapade and escape from dusky death.
But I tucked that deep into the sleeves of my fall overcoat, ultimately fearing it, because
it will have its way with me, certainly, perhaps even, on sixth avenue,
which I will hit it at 5:10 PM, or maybe sooner.