"Almost heaven, West Virginia..."
No, I won't blame John Denver for these words.
Cruising I-77N today is like watching
the hands of God at work--sculpting
the red, rocky earth and clothing
it with lush greens and perhaps hiding
Adam and Eve somewhere, and smiling...
But now my view is shrouded
as the sky in darkness draped
and a heavy downpour rapes
this burning summer road in rage...
(My country music is interrupted: "Severe thunderstorm warning..."
Hence, I ponder about turning back or stopping
like a coward in a ditch when everyone's charging.)
But it's too late now and no one's stopping or slowing
though on the horizon this ball of darkness is looming...
A furious fury descending, now and then illuminating
with scritch-scratchy, electrifying lightning,
following thunderous claps that shake the earth,
making me grip the wheel hard and prepare for death,
pray for a restful sleep after my last breath.
Then we are all sucked into this blackest power
guided by each other's tail lights that flicker,
aided by frustrated, frantic windshield wipers.
We cower in our cars that are pounded by heavy rain
like boats rocked violently by the surge of a sea in pain.
We listen to the pebbles pounding the sides of our cars
while with this watery road our tires are at war.
How we all survive this inhospitable moment
I can't tell, but as we exit this tunnel of torment
we feel like rising phoenix ready for revenge--
able to conquer this burning summer road in rage.