Mirror of Emotion

O, such pain in my tortured soul. When I lost little Johnny, he was but one year old. Crushed on impact by a drunken fool flying down the road, my poor little boy I'll never again hold.

The doctors said he'd felt no pain. Yet, again and again I cursed myself for bringing him out on that fateful eve. There was no reason to leave aside from the fight I'd had with Helen just hours before. We squabbled over work and money before I tore him from our home and set out into the night to cool off and set my mind right.

Whilst waiting on a light to turn green, I turned to him, and he seemed like the greatest gift a man could be given. My last words to him were to, "Sleep tight, little boy. You've no idea the joy you bring into our lives."

Even then, I knew how special he was for Helen's and my relationship. Even during the dip of our romance, this perchance child revived every loving, longing memory that we ever shared. We both cared for him beyond compare and he would be the glue that held the bond of our marriage together.

The red waned and the go ahead was given. At the time, I believe I was too caught up in worrisome notions about a future that would never actually exist to recognize the oncoming danger. Because of these distractions, I'd missed the blaring brights speeding in from the south. Without caring to check, I accelerated across the intersection. The combination of befuddled thoughts coupled with another's ruthless disregard for the red light came together in a powerful crash of metal and agony.

The tragedy killed both the drunk driver and my baby boy. It was a terrible collision. My legs were pinned to the side of my vehicle, one impaled by a plastic shard protruding from the dash. Although, this pain was nothing compared to the silence in the back seat. It was then that I knew nothing would ever be the same.

Since then, Helen and I have separated. She wanted to wander the world aimless and alone. I didn't stop her. I moved out of town, but could never seem to escape the sight and experience so engrained in my mind that it makes me sick to be alive.

Sometimes a storm will mirror my emotion, brooding in great abounds as clouds build in foreboding fashion. They threaten to inflict the same pain upon the earth that I've felt for far too long. I hope the wind rips scars into trees and tears leaves from branches. Only the destructive power of nature echoes what life has wrought for me.

In the pandemonium of the tempest winds, brilliant flashes of lightning bring me back into that unforgettable moment. It is then that I am able to remember the last look he gave me. The sleepy gaze of a new life, looking into the eyes of the one who loves him most. For a precious second, I can see the warm glow of his round, chubby face. It is a moment I hope to never forget. It reminds me of the calm just before the storm. Then, thunder snaps me from my reverie and the rain begins to pour.

Clashing thunder under dark, brooding plumes

dooms asunder those who plunder silent tunes

rendering children frozen with fear as

spears of light tear through clouds in violent fashion.

The passion of nature features more than drops of rain

ripping down from the heavens in torrential downpour,

splashing against the pane and pale of society

like a mirror reflecting all the sordid sorrows of the past

while, faster still, rivers flood--the boiling blood of Gaia

cleansing toxins in temporary deluge.