A deathly silence filled the air,
As I stood amongst a real nightmare,
I didn’t hear a single sound,
And in that moment my heart did pound.

The large vehicle lay on its side,
Like a stricken boat caught in low tide,
It lay there not alone,
But with 13 men trapped and they started to moan.

On hearing those poor unfortunate souls,
Who must of been thrown round like rag dolls,
I ran to seek help but my legs were like lead,
But I ran and ran as I thought men were dead.

With the RMP I arrived back at the scene,
A place i will never forget that I’ve been,
With lights and noise and people all around,
The rescue of men now on the ground.

As I stood in a daze fixed on the lights and noise,
My attention did switch, I changed my poise,
I could hear a voice talking to me,
“It’s ok, sit down, they’re all alive, almost free”.

Those words were what I needed to hear,
For most of that night I was swathed with fear,
As I thought I’d killed those in my lorry,
But we all survived, eternally grateful and I’m forever sorry!

the poem stops for nobody like a speeding heart
or the screeching car. i saw one
crash and it was too dark too quiet too loud too much glass all over the pavement and i thought, first, of who would pay for that old fence to be replaced .  i worried about the pennies and pounds once the smoke cleared and a man stumbled out, angry / ashamed / scarlet-cheeked, scarleteen, no blood . he got loud and i had a camera and did not hesitate to hide it from sight / anti-spectator syndrome. it was too dark too loud too quiet and i am not a mood-breaker, smelling smoke
as it turns and twists, over and over,  acrid and dark
against the night.

Here I sit, with a long face
Waiting for your urgent call
You hung up on me, last time
Don't know what's wrong

A callback message pops-in
Your phone is out of reach
Fear grips me from within
The network seems at glitch

Finally, the door bell rings
And I rush to answer it
There you were, blank faced
Not wanting to rest and sit

You paniced as you talked
One of us was surely dead
In the past weeks accident
But I claimed alive instead

None of us wanted to believe
That we parted from each other
Both of us broke into tears
And I realised, I was another

I didn't survive the wrath
In his arms, I lay dead
A change of expression hit me hard
I left him helpless and sad

I would never wait for a call
As I am leaving your side forever
My death has created a wall
Please don't forget me, ever...


©sim

teeth shouldn't
lie on pavement
and blood shouldn't
run down your face

and as i dragged
myself along the
side of the road
i thought to myself

this is the lowest
moment of my life

flat on my back
staring into the
12 o'clock high sun
and sobbing

i wanted to die before
this moment but now
it's only reinforced
cemented in place
that in fact i can't
do anything right

some wise woman
supposed sage of ages
once told my mother
that for every great emotion
a person needs a physical
container to put it in

but what should one do
when their container
has always been a retainer
that now doesn't fit?

hit where it hurts most
my mouth
years spent suffering
so i can wake up
every morning with a
fresh twenty dollar smile

and now that's
all gone i suppose

maybe i'm vain
or maybe i'm dumb
but the smile makes
the woman and mine
is looking like i'm
not so human

penny for my thoughts?
i'd give a lifetime of
change jars to get
back my perfect teeth

I.
The black ruin exploded
on that cold night,
A drenching rain hid a peril,
unseen.
With lighting strikes
a thunderous white,
we drove in that hour late,
lost and wandering.
The dark road
stretched like a tight rope,
with twisted, wooded boughs
cloaked around.  
We searched the thick shadows
and kept hope,
but chaos is all we found.
Praying for safe passage,
clutching the wheel in fear,  
clinging to the way forward,
but the way was still unclear…
Suddenly
the elements flashed a
dagger of jagged disaster --  
we veered violently,
with vertiginous swerve and swallow.
sheer horror revealed
a visage, eviscerated –
eyes of deep pitch
and bone, hollow.  
Broke and black marrow, portends
no tomorrow;
shattering glass,
splintering wood,
shredding tires,
spilling blood.
Both of us cast into crushing trauma.
…I faded into a murk of the mind,
of Stygian sentience,
slipping beyond, resigned…

II.
Emerging back from a
wild twilight,
where I lingered,
drifting in a diffuse dusk
of a subconscious
dream…
with a flood
of shock sensations!
I awoke to a world of
twisted metal and wicked pain,
extreme.
…“This is really happening?!”
flashed across my mind,
as I struggled to free myself from
the maw of debris.
I could not tell the time or location
of place or friend, but there came
flashing lights and helpful
souls, rushing to attend.
In and out of temporal existence,
my eyes dreary --
heart beat shallow,
impressions of
people and rooms
were bleary.
Numb in my safety,
skating on the surface of an
induced calm, I thought,
“I am in their care.  I can only let go and
let someone else steer.”  
But I waver to explore
the depths of the well
in which I fell;
I can’t yet grasp what transpired,
and I recoil from the traps --
I resist,
I deny,
I withdraw,
I collapse.  

III.
The wet, dark, twisted
walls rise,
reaching high
and ringed around.
she sheltering shock
subsides, and in this
well of pain I drown.
It was only after many hours,
from the moment of
impact,
the difficult work
finally began.
To try to come to terms with
the meaning of this hard fact,
to wash the fear from my heart
and the blood from my hands.
With bracing clarity
I realized
how close to death
I had wandered.
All that my life stood for
and meant was crystallized,
and yet
there was so much weakness
and Fear I had not
conquered.
…And the tears rained down,
drenching my face…
I reeled in despair, clutching
in anguish at the reality,
my mind was white
with grief.
My short life had conceived no honor,
no art,
no lasting vitality!
A legacy of wisdom and
love was imperiled,
nearly stolen by that
phantasmal and cloaked thief.  

IV.
Reaching out through the tears,
calling on my savior for help,
I cried out for a way through
the shadow, clinging to
a hope.
Through the blur
of hot sadness came
a human face, with eyes
sending love, healing, empathy, and care…
Her voice and presence was
as an angel from above.
Her tender heart
struck like a thunderbolt
of compassion.  
I was instantly drawn out
from the deathly well,
and the darkness was
dissolved;
I was saved from Hell.  
this Motherly embrace
came and whispered soft
words of consolation,
as she held my soul aloft.  
I felt my hope
returning, I saw my
life revived.
This dawn,
I was thankful that
from black ruin
I survived.

I imagine, quietly,
if this were it.
If, while I waited on this train platform,
this ever-romanticized,
transient in-between,
someone pushed me into the tracks.
It would be an accident, of course.
What was I waiting for, anyway?
The news would hear it first,
and they'd be the first to forget me.
Clamboring over my unremarkable story
to the next and the next and the next.
I hope I'd make a favourable statistic.
Then what family I have would hear,
once they determined who I was,
and they'd worry I wasn't pushed.
They'd have so many questions
I'd be unable to answer,
much like when I visit.
Then would come a lover,
as sad as those who loved me,
and they would keep my photo
until they grew tired of looking.
For their own sake,
I'd hope they got tired quickly.
Friends would remember me
and tell me kind words I wouldn't hear,
and I'd be of no help to them anymore.
Every once in a while,
I'd come up in a conversation,
and I'd hope they'd grin at a memory,
but it would be more likely they'd frown.
There it'd be,
my young life detailed
in saddened conversation and tears,
until I'd be left another piece of the past.
The statistic of an unremarkable life.

As sudden as an ocean wave, the valve in his heart gave up.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally understood.
He is gone. He is missed.
But he is not coming back.

In the blink of an eye, he was under the truck.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally found peace.
Peace with the truck driver and peace with myself.
Most importantly peace with God.

As the bullet hit the gun dropped from his head to the floor.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was angry.
Angry as his parents, angry at the school.
Angry with myself. But mostly angry at him.

Her car veered off the road, down the ledge and into the water but it wasn't an accident.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was lost.
I couldn't understand why this happened.
I couldn't fathom why she did this to herself.

Thanksgiving morning, metal on metal, laughter dies.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was broken.
My soul so tired, holding those around me.
One life was gone and another hung in the balance.

His father saw him drop the gun as his body fell, wanted to run and save his son.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was numb.
Numb with shock and fear and cold
During that frigid and depressing December.

You can't beat the train. He knew but didn't listen.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was empty.
So many pieces of my heart were taken during the year
I wasn't sure there was anything left.

Standing at the cemetery gates I look around at all the friends I have buried. I thought high school was supposed to be the simple time in life, but if that's the case, why did they all have to go?