Poem February 9, 1981 Issue

An evening walk

DANIEL PRITCHETT

It was the sharpness of the hostile cry
that startled me as I walked;
a moment passed before I realized
a missile had been hurled
with that mindless shout
—an egg, the next streetlight revealed.

It was far too fine a night to be ended
by a single errant egg,
so my footsteps continued,
over pavement, through thought.
Not merely an inconsequential urban incident,
this was, I saw, a fleeting
but quietly crucial scene
in the great drama of mankind's awakening.

I thought of the boy
who had fired those needless shots,
never once wondering why he did it
or whether he would someday come to justice.
I thought, instead,
what a wonderful healer he would be
when he learned to know himself:
with what authority
that voice would carry light across darkness!
With what power and accuracy
that arm could hurl an arrow into error's heart!
What a warrior he would be
when he answered the call to serve almighty Love!