There is a rattle
deep in the belly of our not-so-old car
plastered with its political declarations and subtle confrontations.
It’s not a constant rattle, signaling its discontent only upon the first turn of the key, undetectable to mechanics and other passengers.
It’s been there for so long, I wonder if it’s possible that it was there all along.
But wouldn’t we have noticed it?
Wouldn’t we have heard it when the car was shiny & new & full of promises?
And now that it is a part of the whole,
there are many days when the rattle is missed altogether.
But, there are days, when the rattle roars, forcing me to recoil for just a moment.
On those mornings
when my silence is assaulted by the reminder
that all is so clearly not right with the one thing I am depending upon
I wait for the crescendo…
and then the fall back to a quiet pretense that all is okay