Twilight on the Roadside

Driving home from work once again. Traffic slowed till it was nearly still. A canopy of clouds cast shadows on the deep green rolling hills. The twilight and road dust desaturated my view. As fifty feet ahead cars crept past two parked askew. “Damned car wrecks and rubber necks” I was hungry and sleepy and 70 miles from home. Where my fiancé was waiting with the sons I made my own. At fifteen feet a man stepped out His face was pale and long His shoulders slumped as he half heartedly waved us along At five feet away, there on the white line lay an empty white sneaker with laces still tied. My throat clenched as I scrolled slowly by The horror that was unrolling roadside. There a broken man crouched Over a makeshift shroud. His jacket lay over the body as soft as shadows of clouds. It was the child’s foot uncovered, (That image burned into my heart) twisted aside, naked and tender, like a rag doll. This body part that not long ago belonged To youthful vigor and vivacity. This leg along with it’s brother ran through yards and climbed up trees, that dared to cross the busy highway, that scared by sound of screeching tires, stood frozen in that summer twilight, Will play no more. The child’s expired ”Oh god forgive us all for looking.” For the next hour or so I drove home those silent miles. Leti and my boys were sleeping So I sat on the couch a while. Knowing, yet I couldn’t imagine The reality of what I had seen. Surely twilight made apparitions of things that shouldn’t have been. Before going to bed I checked the boys The little one so serene as he slept. I reached to shut the light when I saw jutting out from under the covers a little foot… and I wept.