A rush of sound, like a rumbling train
where there could be no tracks.
A dread like no other, for the ones who could feel it.
But the sleeping child, blind and deaf to the cleft in the earth,
Rolling gently from the fallen crib, to the only place
where no leaden object lay.
Some protector had held them at bay.
Pedals spin around, and small wheels on the ground
of a summer street.
A pedal pressed down, big wheels bearing down
at high speed.
But the oblivious boy, blind and deaf to the deadly breath
of the metal dragon,
Turning randomly out of its path, making the only escape
from the grip of fate on that day.
A protector had turned him away.
A spark of fire, from a broken wire that rested against
a dry paper box in the closet.
A flame kindled, when no one was near to see it.
But the studying man, nor any of his own,
could never have known
That the heat could find no air, though just a moment before
it had been ripe for a blaze.
The protector had blown it away.
A black shadow, snaking through the insides of a
An unwelcomed invader, which could not be seen or killed.
And the dying old man, half praying for healing and half
ready to leave,
Had now met a danger from which he would not
finally be saved.
His protector would not interfere today.
“Your work was done,” said the soothing voice, “The choice
was one we knew was best.”
“We’ve known for so long, how you’ve longed for your rest.”
And the happy new man, who never again would know tears,
Had now met the one who had been with him
through the years,
and had never left him alone.
This protector now welcomed him home.