One Night

One night
you couldn’t hear
what you were called to do,
as you left your burning house.
Muddled by the smoke
and fear of flames
you forgot, for just a moment,
the angry child still sleeping deep inside.

You scooped up the handicapped one
from the cot beside you,
cuddled her head to your chest
to quiet her whine,
grabbed her leg braces
and rushed for fresh air.

But somehow you failed the one who
most likely dreamed of your demise.
You left her
all blanketed over,
no doubt still tucked into fetal position,
like those “pill bugs” you used to torment,
when you yourself were only a child,
poking them this way
and then that,
until they curled upon themselves in protection