Rush hour and my four year old son is very tired.
by Theresa Ann Moore
merging into a long line of cars on the highway
barely able to see ahead through the heavy rain.
Suddenly a thunderous jetliner roar is heard overhead,
ears are deafened, as my little Josh starts to scream.
All motion freezes, with a sudden flash and a hollow blast.
I see fire.
Cars swerve, screeching to a stop,
one thought is pounding in my head; run…
Panic wedges fear between careening cars.
The driver’s door is jammed…I can’t get out!
Terrified, climbing over…
unlatching Josh’s seat belt.
The passenger’s door opens effortlessly.
Clutching Josh tightly, running from disaster.
Fleeing from the raging inferno…
Josh and I must escape and survive.
Running until exhausted,
dropping to shaking knees
faintly hearing, 'Are we okay, Mommy? '
seeing a plane in flames
as black rain falls from the sky.
Josh’s warmth calms my shivering,
reassuring me that there will be a tomorrow.
Red flashing lights, wailing sirens…
rescuers arrive helping survivors
find shelter in a nearby terminal.
A jetliner has crashed, all on board are dead.