Lost Life - Part Iii Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

The male voice had belonged to an eighteen year old, walking
on the road when a speeding truck came upon him and swerved
so as not to hit him, but somehow the boy walked directly in
front of it, getting hit.

At least that's the passengers story, I cannot judge what
happened because I was not there when he was hit.

Recalling only, those few seconds of hearing a speeding
vehicle, crashing and agonizing screams for help.

Why was he speeding? You could tell by the sound he must have
been doing sixty at least on this winding mountain road.

Not pitying those people in the pickup, their lives will be
exceedingly long, thinking of what has happened and replaying
the video of their minds over and over again, trying to make
the pieces fit.

They'll never make sense, they never do.

A few people now around me, looking at the boat which had been
thrown over the rail and down the mountainous cliff, amazingly
it looked intact, out of place, but intact.

Hearing the sheriff above asking, 'where's the boat'? 'Down
here', I pointed and he shook his head.

Everyone dispersed and I stood there alone, thinking of the
boy and praying.