Painlessness of Ignorance Derric Saville August 31, 1989 Plagued by thoughts of what might have been, face up in the cool

sun of May, waiting to be carted off, warm fluids on my skin, blood drops in my eye, screams of others in the ditch, as they pried us from the car, I feel no pain. There are three ambulances, two white, one darker, I visualize the screams, of others and myself, “which one does he go into?’ queries the stretcher man “put him with his father and the girl” I feel no pain. My eyes reveal the commotion outside me, I remember arguing with Janet, getting to ride behind Dad, the view was better from the driver’s side, “I’ll pull over” and he did, we agreed to trade places now, I could ride behind him on the way back, fasten your seatbelts kids I feel no pain. Screams pierce through my soft skull, shearing like a wedge, my life, into halves that once were one, “Shut up!!!, startling my attendants, “better put him next to his mother”, the big black door swung shut, watching the dark car slowly pull out of the ditch, I feel no pain.


Unconsciousness visits me from time to time, I am so tired, I can barely move my fingers are so heavy I melt into the bed becoming the sheets and pillows I feel no pain. Two white jacketed youths, hoist my leg into the air, “where am I” “in the hospital, you were in a car accident”, “okay” and time slips by, I feel no pain. A man in the bed next to me is moaning, writhing for life which eludes him, he must be in pain, his bed was empty when I woke, the nurse said he died two days ago, not last night, time slips by, still I feel no pain. My head is swollen, where the crushed bone of my skull once was, concern for my memory, an uncle asks if I can remember, his two oldest children, “what about the third”, “him too”, he is relieved my head just throbs, though I feel no pain. moved upstairs to the children’s ward, where kids cry, but cannot be seen, from my carol, Grandma brings my pajamas from home, the ones I treasure most, but I soil them once, at night, the nurses, take them from me,


I never got them back, Pain is setting in. My mother visits me from her wheelchair, a nurse brought her by, she explains my father and sister died, out there in that green gray ditch, never again to hear them whisper, see their faces full of light, two have crossed the gray line into death, the wedge has split the family, The pain is now intense. I have visited them many times, in my second life, but cannot overcome the pain, remembering the spike that split my life in two, the pain doe not subside, more than dirt separates us, we cannot return from the gray line. I want again to feel, painlessness of ignorance.


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