The Car Crash

That time, playing in the muck,
foot emerging without a boot,
hopping and laughing
all the way home…

Then, later, on the bus
the impact of the car
the windshield cracking
like a giant spider
blood all over
the dead lady’s face

All in the past –
sunroof open
kids riding along,
music blaring

But trauma is a spider
Arachne reaching into happy places
and as much as I speed up
to avoid her,
fight to disable
her attack;
she weaves herself new limbs,
begins the onslaught anew

And I am stuck in the mud again
no longer limber enough
to dance my way home in the rain.

(The Car Crash first appeared here in March of 2020. Edited for this version. Image my own.)

Published by

VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

26 thoughts on “The Car Crash”

    1. Typically, my poems emerge from dreams. This one took me back to that day – I was only 9 – and I pondered how it could emerge again so many years later. Thanks for asking.

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