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Poetry from within
   

Car Crash


The car looks fine from the back as we pull up to a stop,

but we can see the debris and the grim faced traffic cop.

“You're needed here”, he indicates, “There's three kids in the rear”.

He need not mention mum and dad; they are no longer here…



Three pairs of hands from strangers, to keep their heads in line,

grasp the children from behind to protect their c-spine.

The screams they give are plaintive, their eyes are full of fear;

their world has just exploded and the bogeymen are here.



We carefully check them over as best we can and soothe

with calmly measured voices and prepare them for the move.

I brush the glass from teddy and best I can distract

as firemen remove the roof so we can them extract.



One at a time, most poorly first, they're lifted from the rear;

collared, boarded and then strapped to a trolley laying near.

On their way to hospital in my colleagues tender care,

I noticed by the traffic cop, a man with vacant stare.



He was a local businessman, celebrating with his wife

after landing a big contract - she had also lost her life.

Drink and driving do not mix; the risks are far too grave.

Please, just do not do it - there are often none to save!


Mark Rand