Picked up a random poetry book From the crowded shelf. Quick easy hour read: Delight and wonder. Then, Found…
Late Night Drive Home
Sheer terror is
Blindness while driving
Along a sunless mountain road,
Oncoming headlights blocking
Your vision,
Save for a thread of white line
Along your peripheral;
All due to a spider,
With spindly legs
And probably an innate
Fear of humans.
When you’ve hit your limit,
Exhausted,
Unable to handle more,
Tears stream down pale cheeks,
Hold back angry shouts
In place of polite
Self-deprecating passiveness.
So now you sit in a car,
Knuckles white on the steering wheel,
Prayers for safety rapidly stream
From your hopeful heart.
A flick of a lever and
Brights help widen your vision
Around the corners with no help
Save for glowing sticks
Marking the way, and
Signs your mind
Cannot comprehend,
Except to know another corner,
Another potential danger,
Lies ahead.
Till another car confronts you;
With polite decorum,
you turn off the brights;
Prayers to a Heavenly Father
Shout louder yet silent within,
Until the car passes and
You can resume the added
Help from brights,
Shine the path,
Winding and foreboding
Along the mountain road,
Knowing full well
The swift presence of the river
With its icy grip
Winds along beneath you.
You’re okay,
A gentle reassurance
Interrupts the prayers.
Then comes an innocent plea
from behind you,
Mom, which is the bad part?
Is this the bad part?
It is all bad parts, you think,
But calmly answer,
Just ahead,
It’s okay though,
God’s with us.
We are safe.
A deer suddenly jumps in front
And you brake,
Calmly watch it cross,
Looks at you with yellow eyes,
Intently drawn to its own purpose;
Ironic the creature that yearns
For the object that you fear.
The car behind you draws near,
Your stomach knots
Harden as you begin
Prayers once more.
30 miles,
14 miles,
10 miles,
Oh, we made it past the river,
Now we just have to climb
A giant hill towering before you
Like a Goliath to a David.
You feel the victory as it releases
Long clenched muscles,
Relief as a turtle to the finish line.
Speed never the priority,
As constant images of other mothers
Driving innocent babes
Rushing into the river
Unable to save their lambs;
Rescue workers’ stories
Resounded in my mind
The whole dreadful journey
Combated with the hopeful
Pleas to a mighty God,
Keeping my weary eyes alert,
And a metallic white line always in view.
A white garage door opens,
You see your husband’s silver Element
Parked still in your garage,
Your home,
And he waits with loving arms.
Children fall asleep,
Quick as a wink,
And you relax
Knowing God had you safe,
Like a worker bee to its queen,
Keeping you from harm,
All along.
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