Charlie’s Assessment Published in Intermission, November 2018 poetry Charlie says the day his momma died the sky thundered his house so I am here to assess the sky and discuss things like how thunder is not an empirically effective method of co-existing and how it creates structural damage over time.
I spend hours measuring and sorting the bits and pieces of the past that are laying around visible or that show themselves and their previous marks.
This pile seems reliable. This pile seems gauzy and imprecise.
With no repair history or operating manual for Charlie some paths seem likely to be a waste of the little time I have been given to choose which dents and scratches to investigate so I wait for the more obvious to give over. When an object is caressed or kicked or somehow disturbed it vibrates in such a way.
He prickles the hair on the back of my neck and the standing wave patterns are thick and slow in the sudden pressure change.
His words pelt the air.
“Folks are the way they are ‘cause that’s how they’re gonna be. This fixin’ sessions over.”
As Charlie’s daddy strides over to get him Charlie kneels frozen with his emotions ricocheting around the trail we have blazed witness marked by all the accidental or intentional times he has been touched, plucked, yanked, shoved, or forgotten.
He’s right though, Charlie’s daddy. Some folks are like the weather. It’s gonna to be how it’s gonna be.
Best learn how to take shelter from thundering skies under the umbrella of respite care, a momma’s helper, mandated family counseling, and a Safety Plan to calm the thunder.
But I know the storm’s still raging.
I can feel the vibrations from miles away and I can’t find a diagnostic code for slow death by a thousand disturbances.