Help The Helper

I pulled over for a car on the street

The trunk was open and the hazards were on

The flames were low, but present

My window was down

And I asked the large, scruffy-bearded man

“Are you okay”

The flames grew

He raises his hand, with a wrench I didn’t see before

And points


The flames became a wildfire

And so I do

I pull away fast as I could, noticing he was looking at me as I did

Every person could be concealing a wrench

A blunt weapon

To leave your spirit with bruises

A sharp one,

To leave holes in your memory

Bullets to pierce your heart


To burn you

Was the hazard light on me for me, Lord?

Do I attempt to connect, despite the danger?

Lord, do I love regardless

Or do I never pull over for someone again

Do I never park my car next to theirs

And hope their fire warms me

And mine warms them?

Light emits heat

And heat only promises presence

Of hate

Of love

Lord, let the next car I pull over for

Let the next car be a campfire

A fire place

To be loved

To be close

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