Make Way For a State of Emergency
Earlier this week, I was taken by our collective ability to respond at a moments notice to the presence of emergency responders. It gave me pause then to think of how slow society as a whole has been to fully embrace a collective emergency as obvious to some and dire to all as the ecological one in which we find ourselves today. Below you’ll find two styles of poems, one free verse and one prose, each attempting to encapsulate that brief moment of acting in unison with my fellow persons. Please enjoy.
Poem One
On the road,
When sirens blare,
Whether in a rush,
Or lost in thought,
We make way.
As time slows down,
And the mind mixes a cocktail,
Of concern and curiosity,
We make way.
We ask questions,
The answers for which,
Will never be known.
“Will they make it?”
“How bad is it?”
And, perhaps with a tinge of guilt,
“Who’s fault was it?”
Each question of less consequence than the last.
We make way,
Because every inch matters.
Even across a vast sea of individuals,
The tide can turn quickly.
As the space between us collapses,
And the many may move as one,
We shed any urgency of Self,
If only for a moment.
If only for a moment.
But brevity is no measure of value.
So move,
Move and make way!
Make way for peacemakers,
Water walkers, food growers, and young leaders.
Make way for heart-openers,
Mind-blowers, wisdom holders, and love seekers.
But know too,
Not all sirens are heard the same.
Some reverberate like a stone-tossed pond,
And others, the rings of a tree.
So slow down,
So we may let them through.
Slow down,
So we can make way.
Make way,
For a state of emergency,
Because I’d hate learn what happens,
The day the road doesn’t clear.
Poem Two
Standing on the corner, a far off siren creeps into my ear. Cars begin to peel away towards the curb, shedding an autonomous, anonymous and acrimonious layer. Closer now, the siren grows louder as the ambulance idles, stuck for a moment on a sandbar of Self just moments before it too fades to make way.
Bearing witness to an inspiring capacity to respond to a stranger in need, I can’t help but wonder how we shuffle collective priorities so swiftly. While most are uninjured, in the midst of an emergency, we trust the siren—no matter how far on the horizon it may be. Surely then, as we manage to do block-by-block, we are capable to grant the same compassion as a planetary species.
The sea shouldn’t have to rise to reach my shore before I demand more. The heat from a forest on fire shouldn’t have to burn my walls before I act on behalf those who’ve already lost it all. The tall grass prairie shouldn’t have to shrink before I consider the what, where, and how of the food I eat.
Alas, as the light cycle changes, and each of us is returned to our identity in short order, what today warrants an emergency, may tomorrow appear to have been a blessing. The beauty though is not for us to know. To act in good faith so that another(s) may survive is enough. There is enough meaning in that act alone to satisfy the world over.
So, the next time you heed a siren, bask in the uninvited absence of the Self, and allow the patient siren resonating from deep within the earth to be heard.
