Left. Right? (Of) Way

I traveled to teach.*

I wanted to go home.

I didn't want to travel,

But someone said

what I would say

was worth saying.

I elected to stay,

for a friendship

Not for the difference

I would

it could

make.

I hoped the space I chose to take,

the impact,

wouldn’t impact,

another's space.

Uninterrupted.

One night of dreams

Apart.

(Not) a part.

Uninterrupted.

Words and limbs breathe,

The too thin space

Tucked under night’s quilted expanse.

I waited out the darkness.

Still, I saw them,

Before I saw them,

The bodies strewn.

I didn’t hit them,

But I see them

even if

I never see

the bodies.

Strewn (Gather)

Their lives. Their days.

Reflections in calm mirrors

Rearview,

Because someone couldn't wait.

I didn’t hit them,

But I use this road,

Support this

Right of way

Questions and answers

which questions

are the answer?

Away. A way?

Our way.

Is there? There is. Theirs. Their.

Rights. Right of way.

Leave?

Who?

I leave(s)

Leaves

I am grateful for their falling.

Dry whisps ever smaller

Might avoid my tires,

Tired

Of their cycle

Caught.

Then forced.

Forced to the remaining space

Around.

*The idea of driving down a country highway at night forces me to confront the impact of what would happen if I wasn't in that place at that time. Everything may be fine, or, I may be the cause of another living being's worst day. I had one such drive on the way to being a guest instructor. The idea of being a expert, always pulls me back to the impact created by my time in Guatemala. An upcoming essay to be published, 'Fit to Serve' speaks to this dissonance. I combined this uncertainty of the impact when your body or words is passing through with voices from YA literature this year. Combined with our social and political climate, those words are variations of a highway lane that is neither left, nor right, but still a kind of right (of) way.