I’d feel better if
My rage were a useful
Friend but
How can I point the
Arrow of my fury at
12 different bullseyes and
Hit them all?
Turn the bullseye
Into a bomb
That turns all
To dust
Then add water
To form the clay by which
We will
Create the tools of our
Future
And of our
Childrens’ future.
I want to believe
That I can make a difference
That I can
Work with the solid
Icy block we have been given
Hold it sweetly
Between my aching palms
And transform it into
Water that trickles gently
Over our sweaty brows,
Cooling the fever of our fury.
I want to burn bright
Yet not
Be consumed
By the flames
Of my own
Grief and
Rage and
Love and
Everything that makes me so
Beautifully and crookedly
Human.
To allow ourselves to be engulfed by
Our own
Tsunami of reactions
To the faults and perfections of others
Is unstable,
Precious,
And deeply honest.
And yet,
To greet anger as a friend
Instead
We find
We can swim.
