The Wreck On Highway 109
by Ruth Gillis © 1999
Used with permission
A drunk man in an
Oldsmobile
they said had run the
light
that caused the six-car
pileup
on 109 that night.
When broken bodies lay
about
and blood was everywhere,
the sirens screamed out
elegies,
for death was in the air.
A mother, trapped inside
her car,
was heard above the noise;
her plaintive plea near
split the air:
"Oh, God, please
spare my boys!"
She fought to loose her
pinioned hands;
she struggled to get free,
but mangled metal held her
fast
in grim captivity.
Her frightened eyes then
focused on
where the back seat once
had been,
but all she saw was broken
glass
and two children's seats
crushed in.
Her twins were nowhere to
be seen;
she did not hear them cry,
and then she prayed they'd
been thrown free,
"Oh, God, don't let
them die!"
Then firemen came and cut
her loose,
but when they searched the
back,
they found therein no
little boys,
but the seat belts were
intact.
They thought the woman had
gone mad
and was traveling alone,
but when they turned to
question her,
they discovered she was
gone.
Policemen saw her running
wild
and screaming above the
noise
in beseeching
supplication,
"Please help me find
my boys!
They're four years old and
wear blue shirts;
their jeans are blue to
match."
One cop spoke up,
"They're in my car,
and they don't have a
scratch.
They said their daddy put
them there
and gave them each a cone,
then told them both to
wait for Mom
to come and take them
home.
I've searched the area
high and low,
but I can't find their
dad.
He must have fled the
scene, I guess,
and that is very
bad."
The mother hugged the
twins and said,
while wiping at a tear,
"He could not flee
the scene, you see,
for he's been dead a
year."
The cop just looked
confused and asked,
"Now, how can that be
true?"
The boys said,
"Mommy, Daddy came
and left a kiss for you.
He told us not to worry
and that you would be all
right,
and then he put us in this
car
with the pretty, flashing
light.
We wanted him to stay with
us,
because we miss him so,
but Mommy, he just hugged
us tight
and said he had to go.
He said someday we'd understand
and told us not to fuss,
and he said to tell you,
Mommy,
he's watching over
us."
The mother knew without a
doubt
that what they spoke was
true,
for she recalled their
dad's last words,
"I will watch over
you."
The firemen's notes could
not explain
the twisted, mangled car,
and how the three of them
escaped
without a single scar.
But on the cop's report
was scribed,
in print so very fine,
An angel
walked the beat tonight
on Highway
109.
Copyright © 1999 Ruth Gillis
Used with permission
All Rights
Reserved
Special thanks to Ruth Gillis for
giving me permission to use this poem.
"The Wreck on Highway
109" received a First Place Award in the April 1999 issue of Poet's Review. |
