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Still Motion
The silent moan of the moment before impact,
An eternal fraction of a second;
Falling headlong into the unforgiving barricade…
Hearing the bending, breaking of machined steel,
And the cliché sound of shattered still motion.
Her entire body gripped by fear,
The face of a ghost, hollow, empty…
An intrusion of natural laws
…All motion ceases.
Silence joined by the unison scream of
An unconscious body lying against the horn;
The orchestral cacophony swells as siren arrive…
Pulling the survivor from her ride with the reaper,
Writhing in agony, confusion;
In the clenched fingers of fear,
Watching, I stand, above it all,
As if a glimpse from the eye of a higher being,
Feeling the resonance of that silent moan, still motion;
In that still lying moment.
wow, that must've been horrible to witness, its amazing how such akward things from afar produce such great work. Nice poem, keep it up!