I don't know how long they were closed

but when I opened my eyes and realized
we were alive, the driver and I,
raising my hand to my chest
I took a deep breath and felt
the pinch in my lungs.
When my hearing came too
all that came through
were his sobs.
Pull yourself together man.
You can’t imagine what could have happened.
You are going to wake up tomorrow morning,
you are going to feel the stiffness in your neck,
you  are going to pray and thank God,
you survived the wreck.
I want to go up to him there
in the late September air and scream it.
I take his slumped shoulders in my hands
and shake them back and forth in the seat
like sisters that pull each other’s hair
as if to settle some conflict from it.
I see them driving past us
from the shattered passenger window,
the frustrated Packer traffickers,
no one calling for help.
It should have taken longer
for me to see her in the rearview mirror.
Wet drops reflecting the
white beams of sun above her head.
I see my mother with a frantic look
and frown at her lips
running toward the car made of crumpled metal
and  blue chipping paint.
With smoke lightly rising,
with airbags slowly deflating,
she wants to exhale but her breath is caught in her throat.
The same words are repeating in her head:
They’re just kids, they’re too young,
all they want is to have fun.
The only thought in my mind is
thank god it’s over and done.
Her familiar hands
pull me from my seat into
her protective embrace.
In this place I can let it all out
and trace the moment in time
that my life almost came to an end,
then watch it vanish in the distance.