Waiting
/John Cullen
At a traffic accident last Friday, I witnessed
a grace of kind words after an Explorer
crossed center line and mashed a Chevy sedan.
An eight year old girl shattered window glass.
Scattered on the roadside grass and gravel,
we stroked each sister’s shoulder, startled
as the one’s last heave and gasp seized
lost saturdays. We grappled the inevitable
as best we could, each word single minded.
A fireman held her limp hand
because none of us could let her go.
The other sister repeated, “I killed her...”
Words are all we had, but I believe
what I witnessed, and await the next grace
to descend and hold, as I tried, there
and here in word and line. We drove away,
slowly, unsure what more to do, each radiant
maple waving colors we’d never seen.
Author's Note: The poem is absolutely autobiographical. I remember the feeling of helplessness I felt at the scene, as my car was the next in line behind the car that got hit. I was impressed by the dignity and compassion the firefighter brought to the scene of the accident, which was really terrible. Everything in the poem is exactly as it happened. I kept thinking about the whole incident and always told people how compassionate that firefighter was.
Author’s Bio: John Cullen graduated from SUNY Geneseo and worked in the entertainment business booking rock bands, a clown troupe, and an R-rated magician. Recently he has published in American Journal of Poetry, The MacGuffin, Harpur Palate, North Dakota Quarterly, Cleaver, Pembroke Magazine, and New York Quarterly. Bass Clef Books released his chapbook “Observation of Basic Matter” in 2025.
