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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 12:47:42 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 139857
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Consuming Love
[time] => 2008-01-16 23:54:37
[hometext] => After three teenagers burned to death trapped in their car after an accident, I lived in dread of something like that happening to my daughters. I just recieved word from a YPDC member that he witnessed what I had imagined. Unbelievably horrible!
[bodytext] => A Consuming Love dedicated to: Rebecca, Heather, Sherrill, Adrianne, Serenity, and Abigail ...there was a hissing, a hissing muffled by an immense ethereal silence... ...he was pulled from the mass of tortured metal, dazed, confused, uncomprehending, at first... ...aware of a looming devastation, whispering tersely amongst themselves, they made him sit, head between his knees, breathing deep, almost sobbing, fighting the mind numbing explosions in his chest, attempting to detect even the smallest fragment of order, purpose, logic, desperately wresting control from his adrenalin rich blood... ...his first words, "My daughter..." then, a rasping gasp for breath... ...determined, he raises his head, "Where's my daughter..." ...glances ricochet like hot lead in a pillbox, no one answers... ...as he struggles to rise a voice claims, "We've got her." "She's okay." ...not trusting the sacred to tentative strangers, he reacts, this time rising to his feet, his eyes darting, piercing, demanding, "Where..." "Where..." another voice claims, "She's okay..." his body now darting in sync with his eyes, his senses becoming acute, he smells and instantly sees the ebony ribbon curling its way heavenward... ...his cerebrum explodes with seratonin, his heart with adrenalin... ...left behind, his body stumbles angularly towards the twisted wreckage... ...pushing and pulling against restraining Samaritan arms, shoving and finally powerfully thrusting, he clears a path to his child, and the ebony ribbon becomes a thickening charcoal column... "She's stuck," a voice offers... "We can't free her right leg," another voice informs... then, "Daddy...Daddy," her little voice.… a voice of such relief, a voice gushing unreasoned confidence, a voice that conveys ultimate faith, "My daddy's here…I'm gonna be okay…" this little voice barely whispers, as the thickening charcoal column begins to speak... ...he snuggles in close and brushes a lock of hair from her tear stained cheek, "I'm here, Honey..." ...he cradles her head in his hand, his right hand; "Daddy's here," his voice soothes... ...as the caring hands of others are gently tugging at him, consumed with thoughts of mere survival, pulling him from his daughter, a calmness of spirit envelopes, permeates his soul, a strength from beyond causes such a softness to flow... "I have to pull, Honey..." "It might hurt, Sweetie-pie..." "I Love you, Precious..." and with every gentleness he exhausts his determination to separate himself from the mangled steel, as the mumbling flame begins to creep... "Daddy...Daddy...I'm scared, Daddy..." his little one whimpers... "I know, Honey..." "I know..." "Me, too..." "But, Daddy won't leave you...Honey..." "I won't leave you..." "Not ever..." ...the pulling and tugging and garbled warnings become serious, and then fearfully desperate, as the creeping flame becomes a low crackling... ...wrapping himself about his child, his right cheek crushed against her left cheek, her stubby little fingers nestled securely in his, he positions himself... ...a daddy's last defense... ...yellow tongues now lick at his back, singeing his hair, bubbling the skin of his neck... ...teeth clenched, he clutches his little one as if the power of his spirit could protect... "Daddy...Daddy..." terror, fear, "My foot, Daddy...it hurts, Daddy..." words muscle a path through grimacing lips... "I Love you, Miss Gail..." "Daddy's here, Honey-pie..." "God Almighty, I Love you..." ...while flames viciously satisfy their demonic appetites, possessed of a fatherly desperation, he smothers his little one against his chest with a pure and consuming Love... Then... ...then, silence... rko December 20, 2005 [comments] => 2 [counter] => 238 [topic] => 21 [informant] => enigma [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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