The April evening sun shines with promise
Shedding light over melting snow on farmer’s field,
Dusk dances gently on pavement covering highways.
In most years, as afternoon delicately folds itself into evening
Thousands of kilometres of highway are pummelled by heavy, spinning disks of rubber.
The year’s fourth month: when the hopes, the dreams and the toughness of character
Are tested like none other.
Hockey playoffs begins its two-month grind.
Bus travel and junior hockey simply, personify one another.
We are solemnly reminded of that this evening — two years to the day.
Just 29 more kilometres.
That’s all before a charter bus would
Stop, and hockey players enter an arena.
Twenty-nine kilometres south 16 young lives were lost.
The carnage and twisted iron
The smell of diesel fuel
The wreckage strewn west
Fails, mercifully, to of loss
Of life so being, triumphlant celebrated.
Now, 731 days later, arenas are quiet.
A global pandemic tightens its lethal clench,
Silencing activities — but not voices which,
Like the Humboldt Broncos bus crash,
Cry an innocent why.
We may never know why things crumble.
Yet, the late afternoon sun is
A comforting cursor for tomorrow:
A new day with new ways to walk,
Through incredible heartbreak and mystery.
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