Red Lights Race

From every angle flows an unknown consequence.
On a misty early morning on North Court Street,
red lights race toward us in the no-siren silence.

Cellphone in hand, an EMT kneels near
a man, we see, as we rubberneck within feet.
From every angle flows an unknown consequence.

At distance, bright lights seem part of holiday cheer,
but on approach take on new meaning, force retreat.
Red lights race toward us in the no-siren silence.

Did the bike on the sidewalk launch him like a spear
toward that lamppost? Did he flop drunk on the concrete?
From every angle flows an unknown consequence.

We won’t know the how or the why he’s ended here,
frozen as if alive, his last escape complete.
Red lights race toward us in the no-siren silence.

What actions do we−can we−take to fight the fear
that a death or life can change within a heartbeat?
From every angle flows an unknown consequence.
Red lights race toward us in the no-siren silence.

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