A Poem by Christian Steward
Arteries in motion
Beings collided
Into the kaleidoscope
Of unspoken,
This is my open love letter
to the streets…
I remember
Football games
Corner to corner
Kids brushing cars
To catch balls under the sun
Laughter and scars
Oh the joys of being young.
My love letter to the streets
Begun on days just like this.
Once I caught a pass and drifted
Into my neighbor’s lawn.
I met a young lady there
Her name was Dawn,
Which made total sense.
Although just a kid,
She was as adventurous
As the empress of fitness…
She was great at most sports,
I am sure she never got winded.
Do YOU know what winded is???
Let me explain,
Every game we played
She never fatigued
Her physique was splendid
she would challenge adults
And when they would cease
Due to the fact
It was hard to breathe
She would take the lead
And eventually win it.
Always a winner
But more importantly
Her spirit was authentic
Pouring kindness
In the form of adrenaline
Her pursuit for movement
Is where my energy begins
This is my open love letter to the streets.
I recall slow strolls
With my adolescent honey
Two hands hold
As blocks fold and bend
And souls invite in
The delight of walking and talking.
Pause at oncoming traffic
Culminating the magic of safety
And imagination.
Conversation prioritized
As we stand there waiting
For trucks to slow down
At the yellow light.
We scan intersection
And decide to jog across the street.
We were taught to be cautious
And present
For traffic
Can become a weapon
Effecting the masses.
This is my open love letter to streets.
Fast forward...
Over the bluff of love
Into the dive of dust
Tears were cried
Here I live, alive but struck...
It's a haunting
Daunting feeling
Of empty.
For no more Dawns
To explore
Or tours through her arms
To endure the harm
Of resentment and scars...
Oh mobility, look how you mucky
This story of ours.
I am always hopeful,
But now I wrap my arms
Through memories
And different configuration
Of stars...
Adjusting my head
From right to left
Shifting the scenes
Of her dreaded last breath.
On a routine biking trip
A truck was stuck inside
A bike lane and turning lane
Dawn veered left
A distracted motorist
Struck Dawn down to her death.
Mangled metal weaved
Through the cavities of chest
Pinned between vehicles
Is where her peace shall rest.
Buried below with the rubble
Lies feelings of love
But it is not there
Where it will die.
In accepting the divide
Of those who bike,
Walk, stroll, and/or drive
We shall design,
Plan, build and deliver
A vision to keep ALL alive...
Since the vision is Zero
We all have a responsibility
To embody a living hero.
This is my open love
To the streets…
