Whose hand took the wheel,
When intoxication caused me to steal
A few moments sleep at motorway speeds,
And awake within hair’s breadth of fatal collision?
I should have been punished for such a decision.
So who offered reprieve for such reckless deeds?
Who shielded my eyes
When I stood all alone among the carnage arising.
The stench of necrosis in 110 heat.
The shock dulled my senses, as wounded became dead.
Harsh reality dawned, as I felt my own baby’s head.
So whose hand held my hand, as I struggled to keep my feet?
And who blessed me with my little guy,
The apple of this adoring, thankful mother’s eye,
They said, “The chance of conception was practically zero,
Any pregnancy fruitless, the birth was in vain,
Outrageous expenses, a great deal of pain.”
So who really delivered my beautiful hero,
If there is no God?
© Alice through the Macro Lens