and we walked to school today
and took the short cut up the grass
and felt the shade of trees on our bare knees
like peace seeping into my bones
and we talked about how it’s cooler than
where the sun beats on the tarmac
and I didn’t mention the cars
or the shadow they cast in my heart
and Abdullah was tossing his bottle in the air
and walking to meet his Dad
and looking forward to eating together
and in an instant it all fell
and the driver’s wretched soul
lost control
and sent the car swerving
and young bodies thrown to the air
and the care of many hands
could hold his body but could not hold
his life in the safety he had come here to find
and Elemie like Abdullah had such a smile
and they lit up more worlds than they could ever know
and in a bright summer Thursday afternoon
and tied up in a dreaded knot of van and road
and the sun dropped slowly as the light
danced out
of another thousand hearts
and pulled away into the stars
no matter what they did
and the driver was in bits
and there’s no secret mystery
to what we need to do
and slowing down machines
and disentangling
and letting our streets grow tender life
as we make contact
and not be thrown into conflict
and it may not be easy but it’s simple
like a human touch
and like the hand of the most lost among us
who will surely hold on
if we can hold out ours?
and now we’re left with questions
and many I fear to ask
like why does the sun keep rising?
and how does the world still turn?
and why did these wounds cut in
again
to streets that bear the scars of death
and pleas to take this fear from here
and make these places safe?
and how threadbare the promises
of Vision Zero look?
and how can anyone stand before them without breaking?
and what will we do today, tomorrow,
to make
these little ones
not just the latest lost
but the last?
and in this chaotic drum beat
shattering our city
taking until we stop its thunder
where will the lightning strike?
who’s next?
June 2025
The title is a reference to the banner in Mary Annaïse Heglar’s novel Troubled Waters which the lead character Corrine drops to protest the death of her brother on an oil boat.
The question “how does the earth still turn?” comes from Debbie Enever’s book Middowed, a beautifully powerful account of her loss of her son Dan in a crash in Sheffield in 2018.