Helping Hands Poem by Ima Ryma

My car stalls on the railroad tracks.
I can see an oncoming train.
The seat belt jams - panic attacks.
I struggle to escape, in vain.
Suddenly, my car starts to roll,
Safely across and up a hill.
I am one very lucky soul.
Driving on, I feel a strange chill.
Later, I learn that years before,
A train struck a school bus right there;
Ten dead children forevermore.
And somehow they knew my despair.

A fact I've treasured ever since -
On my car, lots of small handprints.