God Forbids

Yesterday, a man crashed in Texas, 
survived his mangled family. 
Everyone wondered if he could go on. 

I remember another who tried. 
Met him years after his tragedies, 
a math professor, 
Amish black beard, 
a mountain lion type, 
but the personality of a lamb, 
quiet, no bleating. 

He told us his story
before a campfire, 
smoke gets in your eyes. 

The Rockies, 
formidable driving, 
Old VW van, flower power. 
It went off a cliff, 
lost all but an infant son. 

Time passed. Re-married. 
This time his new wife was driving, 
another psychedelic van
in the Rockies. 
All lost this time. 

I looked into his slouched face. 
Once onyx eyes as if formed over centuries, 
now wild, maybe insane I thought, 
as if nothing were too horrible, 
as if nothing were forbidden. 

Originally published in Down in the Dirt/Scars