Reflection on “The Pedestrian” Short Story
This is a poem reflecting my reading on the short story, “The Pedestrian”.
Walking Through the Graveyards
I entered through the cold door of detached inhumanity,
I walked through the indifferent streets in a silent way,
Though it was as dead as a graveyard even without me trying,
I peered through the windows; I saw, no, heard the people,
Watching TVs glued to that glass screen and the multiple channels,
How could I not? The streets were as aloof as the outside of their ‘tomblike’ houses.
And I saw that man.
Leonard Mead, a man walking for the sake of nature,
Soaring down his path, street, sky to breathe, to realize.
I noted his loneliness but also his warmth, his need to be with nature.
His shred of humanity, his need to be free-spirited, his need to feel cold air,
His need to let his lungs burn with the intensity of life,
with the frigid air of Mother Theresa coursing through his body.
I see something in him.
What?
I see a representative of humanity uncorrupt by… Progression?
No…
Regression.
I see the man, but what’s that, coming down the streets?
I see rigid structure.
Police Car, an enigma patrolling for the sake of society,
Driving down his, its, path, gravel, pavement to target, to imprison,
I noted his, its, lack of passion and also its unemotional, uncaring nature,
His, Its, shred of the soulless, his need to reject, the cold-hearted steel,
It lacked a human driver, metallic and spoke with radio throat.
It doesn’t comprehend humanity, no need, it only comprehends something else.
I see one thing only in it.
What?
I see a representative of apathetic regression denying any shred of humanity,
But it is blind by cold steel and stiff adjectives.
It can only see, no, view progression.
I see the contrast between the police car and Mr. Mead,
One side,
Inanimated steel moved only by unfeeling progress.
One side,
A human being, burning with the gift of life.
One side has lost soul and a fathomable concept of humanity,
One side has gained soul in the pursuit of keeping the roots of life together.
One side, fueled by progression without the remnants of humanity,
One side, fueled by simply living, brimming with the essentials of humanity.
One side that has lost soul in exchange for advancements and stale progression,
One side that gained soul by simply enjoying a simple action called a walk.
Why can’t it see?
Why can’t his voice be heard?
A cold, black jail awaits, my heart bleeds for Leonard.
The cold hearted reality of a lifeless painting with humanity.
If this is what could happen, then we'll make it so it doesn't happen.
A life without life cannot be considered life can it?
I leave that silent world, that cold door behind, shut it closed with a new concept to life itself.
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by its breathtaking moments."
- Michael Vance
Collaboration by Grateful Dead and Dead Man’s World.