God threw us across a major highway.

Before this, in the backseat, my forehead pressed cold
on the window. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t fully awake.
I was thinking how precious it is that mother’s protect
their young. How God-like: with her body across the seat, Peachie
slept with my baby cousin sleeping sounder under her.

Then God threw us.

Even at 5, I was able to suspend my own pain to tend to others’.

I remember Grammy called it shock – How I ran to her,
escaping the congregation of hands on my body and urgency
of voices crowding the grey debris of the broken car, broken bones.

Now, we talk about this accident:
Peachie and Grammy say to me You screamed and cried
the entire time; you couldn’t move.

I remember that I couldn’t be stopped.
I remember I was the only one who didn’t cry.