Another White Cross

2 Comments

Tags:
  • Sadness
  • ,
  • Death
  • ,
  • Loss

    Poem Commentary

    While driving from Kentucky to Virginia I couldn't help but notice the large number of white crosses by the side of the road. As I drove I thought of this prose. I also thought how and why we are killing ourselves driving in such a hurry to go nowhere fast.

    Another White Cross

    Look mommy there's another one. 

    I see baby that makes three.

    Why are there so many? Why are they always by a tree?

    They are not always by a tree little one, sometimes they are at a corner or near the center of the road.

    Why are they there mommy? Are they for sale?

    No sweetheart they are not for sale. They are used, sadly, to mark a spot.

    What spot is that mommy?

    The spot where somebody died whose car had crashed.

    I don’t ever want to die in a car crash mommy. I want to live to be big like you and daddy.

    You will sweetheart. And when you learn to drive you make sure you drive safely, ok?

    Ok, mommy, I promise.

    As the eighteen wheeler barreled past she was startled back to reality. When her husband finished his hammering he stepped back and with a crackle in his voice said, there, it should stay put now. He placed his arm around his wife and helped her back to the car. He then placed her crutches on the back seat. As they pulled away from the curb she looked back with tears in her eyes at another white cross by the side of the road.

    Poem Comments

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    poett commented on Another White Cross

    11-16-2013

    Sad story told... its a good write to share cause it makes people aware of safe driving. You have to be careful not to end up being another white cross on the road side.

    freemansvoice commented on Another White Cross

    10-08-2013

    out of the twilight Zone. reminds me of a poem I wrote once, so sad.

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

    bklynrizz’s Poems (6)

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