This poem I wrote togehter with my dear friend Tori. With the intention to post it at High schools and MADD. So far it is posted at MADD London, Ontario. We shall continue.
Once Upon Time
Morning came. They always come
Drops of dew lined up one by one
There was nothing different from any other day
No one could predict what was on its way
The band of tar laid out in soil
No one could see the thin layer of oil
A car sped down so fast
The needle trembled it would ever last!
A driver young, careless and free
Behind the wheel but he did not see
His vision impaired, not yet awaken’
Hill after lucky hill the car had taken
Friends were sitting right beside
In drunken laughter on their homeward ride
With the thrill of speed deep in their eyes
How could they see or realize?
The last set of numbers reached by the needle
No warning, nor sign of evil
The car came flying high over the crest
Swirling out took away their breath
Their car forced into the other lane
The dice have fallen in this deadly game
The car crushed into the oncoming van
Rolling over and over again
Spinning out like tin can
Tires squealing shattered glass
Smoke and fire engulfed their pass
Nothing could defy the impact force
Both cars were taken out of course
No sound escaped from either car
The drive home went too far
All lives were gone, forever more
A widow left, such pain she bore
Her husband became a casualty
Four teenagers died, instantly
The child, the father she will never know
So much pain and only memories to show
Five lives were recklessly thrown away
Friends and family feel such dismay
Five graves lined up in single row
Hovering shadows of a mournful glow
Parents and siblings standing there
Nothing is left, but despair
Widow, …and child hardly grown
Now standing there, …alone
Five crucifix and flowers standing still
Mourners’ now are wondering, was this “His” will
Once upon a time and now five lives are gone
Be careful with yours, you have only one
Have we done all we can to educate?
Why do these things repeat?
Is there nothing we can say?
Is there not a better way?
© Helmut and Tori, Oct.1999
The ability to describe life with words is similar to painting a picture; both can be powerful tools.
[This message has been edited by HelmutB (edited 01-09-2000).]