account of a traffic accident by a fireman

[passion_bleeds]

Lights and sirens already pierced
A damp and heavy night.
The brakes released,
As if letting out a sigh,
And our truck eased to a halt.
I sprung out into the muffled chaos,
Weaving through emergency vehicles.
My steps were slow;
Hampered by a helmet and coveralls.
It seemed as if the sound and situation
Couldn’t break my focus.
Now my thoughts echoed in silence,
Appearing separate from the world,
This is bad…real bad.
Wow, this gear is heavy.
I wonder if anyone has died.
I wonder if I get to save a life.
I finally reached the mangled body
Of a black 2002 Ford Expedition.
It lay on what used to be its roof,
Tires pointed to the sky.
Stillness was hidden by tinted windows.
The license plate frame read,
“Worthington Ford of Long Beach.”
A small, square, red sticker on the back left.
That was all I could make out.
The rest was shredded metal
And spilled oil, dripping like blood.
I found a gray shirt laying on the ground,
Just a few feet from the wreckage.
I looked up to see the medic speeding away
Then read the logo on the shirt in my grasp:
“Biola Baseball”
On the collar, written in permanent ink:
Chris Weems

...veritas et caritas...