My uncle Charlie, the misunderstood genius

“Charlie”
by Shawnna Burt

My father’s older brother
Charlie, a secretive hunter
Wielded an axe,
Went after my mother.

Charlie went much farther
Where angels fear to tread
Like a rose in a graveyard
Where it’s terrible and wet.

Misheard and misread
Many years had passed
We thought he was dead.

A scarecrow we found,
Without bite or bark
He was hunkered and down,
And buried in dark

His frayed checkered blanket
Which had failed as a shirt
Its pattern is faded.

With smokes up his sleeve
Lone ranger boots
Were worn on his feet.
His hair had grown wild,
Whitewater rapids,
Cowl licks and spirals.

What little I knew,
This man I had feared,
Was not far apart,
From the place I was near.
A singer, an artist
With dreams locked within pages,
That kept him apart
From the truth said by sages.

Something awakened,
A phoenix from fire,
Free to be naked.
From the depths of desire,

As his breath became words,
His voice became wiser,
The best that I’ve heard,
This angel I admired.

By Shawnna Burt

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4 thoughts on “My uncle Charlie, the misunderstood genius

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