What happens when the sidewalk ends?

I was thinking about this as I sat on my front porch swing one afternoon during the week between Passover and Easter. Although it is a poetry book written for children, “Where the Sidewalk Ends,” by Shel Silverstein, offers insight for readers of any age.

As I tried to remember the words of the book’s title poem, trucks filled with broken sidewalks and the burnt remains of homes and places of worship from the Eaton fire could be heard all over the neighborhood. The large, black plastic bags they carried were filled with memories.

Silverstein’s goal to motivate children to see beyond what is in front of them — to imagine a world of their dreams — speaks to the challenges of today’s world, something that poetry, with its third eye, can awaken.

Suppose that place beyond the sidewalk was magical and fun. Maybe a new beginning instead of an ending?

“We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow and watch where the chalk-white arrows go to the place where the sidewalk ends.”

In a universe of broken sidewalks, what are the options? Some, like many of the fire survivors, will build new ones. Others may decide to live without a sidewalk. But each will decide what works best for their life scenario.

The poets I have met during my time editing a poetry magazine, as well as the senior students in classes I taught, tended to respect and encourage each other’s work. That’s how sidewalks get mended.

What would it look like if we followed Mr. Silverstein’s advice?

Suppose we could each conjure up a poem for our future and know that even those who didn’t like it would respect our right to have written it? Imagine actively exploring that unknown space where the sidewalk ends. What might life look like if all paths did not have to lead to the same destination and belief system?

What will you do when your sidewalk ends?

Happy Poetry Month.

Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on Patriciabunin.com.