The Observer

It's 4am
And in my lonely bed
I dream alone-
A vivid image,
Terrible,
That leaves me rocked
To the core:
We're on a sun-blinding road trip,
Cross country.
Suddenly
The rushing coastline freeway
Turns liquid.
The highway veers,
Leading all cars straight into the ocean,
One after another.
It's shallow enough to wade.
I trudge through the sandy bottom.
Knee deep in blue,
I'm in a numb daze.
The soft sea bottom squishes through my toes.
It's not cold.
But there in front of me
I look down and
I find the outline of a sunken car.
It's orange,
With two sunroofs.
I scrape off the mud,
Drying and heavy on the glass
Above the waterline.
Down inside I see
Them.
In an air-filled, sand-sunken capsule,
A family.
Tap, tap, tap!
No one wakes.
My nerves explode,
But "peaceful" says their faces.
The toddler in the back sways
With the rocking tide.
He's loved,
Fetal curled in his big sister's arms.
Tap, tap,tap!
Bang, bang, bang!
I am no use.
In the water,
There is no help,
Only miles of beach
And a blue horizon,
Dazed people emerging from their cars.
I am a helpless,
Hopeless
Observer
Of
Sweet Sleep.
And I wake.
My arm is shaking,
Electricity pulsing in my fingertips,
Is he OK?
I reach
For my own toddler son,
Whose pajama-ed feet
Have silently padded into my room,
Filling the sunken empty space
Beside me.
He breathes gently,
Blonde curls
Cover his dad's pillow.
And I am a quiet
Observer
Of
Sweet Sleep.