The in-between

Cries eclipse the silent night.

Or was it a crash?

Or was it a screech?

It happened so fast.

Headlights flash in somber reflection-

its hollow glow eerily echoing across

the shimmering streets.

Blurry faces poke around the corners,

around streetlamps, and storefronts

Eyes grow wide and hope grows thin.

For through the rain and the hissing steam

They know life holds on by a thread

And the Moirai are not known for their patience.

God, if you’re listening,

please send an angel.

A strobe of red follows a strobe of blue

But the sirens that follow are so

far away.

Don’t just stand there!

I shout.

But no one moves.

Hushed voices huddle en masse

Clutching crosses and whispering hymns.

Do something!

I plead

Though I find my own soles

cemented in place.

“There’s nothing they can do.”

He said to me.

A man who, through the steam and sweat

Through the reflective lights and pools of rain

Held a perfect visage.

But they need help!

“They are on their way,”

But what if they’re hurt?

“They’ll be okay.”

You don’t know that.

“Yes, I do.”

How could you possibly-

“Because I was only sent for you.”