I Was Dead

“I was dead,”
My passenger,
Who looked to be in her late 20’s,
Told me,
And continued,
“And now I’m alive.
Take me to St. Vincent’s church.”
While I was thinking of a response,
My passenger asked me,
“Do you believe in God?”
“Oh great,”
I thought,
Here it comes,
The evangelism pitch.
“Yes,” I told her.

To which she responded,
“My name is Raylene,
And I go to church every Sunday,
To thank God for my life.
When I was 13,
My father rear ended a flat bed semi,
At 50 miles per hour,
That was parked on the side of the road,
On a foggy night.
It was loaded with steel girders.
One of them came through the windshield,
On the passenger side.
It hit me in the face,
And dragged me,
Into the back seat,
Face first.”

She continued,
“When the paramedics arrived,
They pronounced me dead,
With no heart beat,
And placed me in
A body bag.
The coroner at the morgue wrote out the death certificate,
After confirming that I was dead.
He zipped closed the body bag,
And I coughed.”

Every bone in my face,
Was broken,
And my skin was pulverized.
So they had to,
Reconstruct my face,
From photos.
After years of plastic surgery operations,
I look like this.”

I looked at her face,
And couldn’t see a blemish or scar.
“You look perfect,”
I said.
Then she pulled back her hair,
From her face,
And showed me the scar that ran the circumference of her face,
From her forehead,
To below her chin.

By this time we arrived at the church,
And she paid me,
And gave me a $1.00 tip,
As she exited my cab.
I drove her another dozen times,
Over the next couple of years,
When she was going home,
From work.
She worked at one of the county coop’s,
That employed the handicapped.

The last time that I saw her was,
In 2007,
When she was being evicted,
From the halfway house,
That she lived in,
Because she flew into,
Uncontrollable rage,
Without warning,
From brain damage,
Sustained in the accident,
That God resurrected her from.