The journey home was, as ever, reduced to a crawl.
A golden evening sky to the north beckoned me home.
A glance in my mirror showed a black slab of sky left behind
Framed in the black was the little green car that contained the crying girl.
Her whole body shook with the quake of emotion.
Alone in her personal hell she waited in sorrow or pain, I don't know which
Swollen, red, tear flooded eyes looked out longing for support but from where.
Surrounded by thousands, but not a single human soul to share her pain.
Was a lover she'd planned her life with far behind her
He, who was to be the father of her beautiful children.
He, who held her whole existence in his hands.
Reeling from the pain of his rejection, her future now a blur.
Was a grieving parent waiting for her comfort, ahead of her
He who had been her pillar, her rock, her mentor now needed her
He, whose life was turned on its head with the loss of his love.
Was she now running to share the pain of his loss.
For twenty minutes our cars stopped and inched us forward to our destination
I longed to help her, to support her, to comfort her and share her anguish
But I, like her, was trapped in the little world of our own control
I felt we were together, but I don't know if she saw me
By the end of our time together I cried for her
I'm sorry I couldn't help the crying girl in the little green car
She touched me with her pain.
chris orton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-crying-girl-2/
