ANGER

It is wise to direct your anger towards problems - not people; to focus your energies on answers - not excuses. (William Arthur Ward) If kept bottled up, a poison taken like vitamins, this elixir will eat you from the inside. Ears pierced not with pretty jewels, but allowed to be stabbed over and over again with curses. Blessings should have been returned, kisses for the enemy, not for lips but for grace. Bitterness hardens the arteries, the heart becomes a surgeon’s slab. Anger entered with close encounters, with flying spit not holy water, with not the shadow of the King but of a spouse, leaning in not for a hug, but for elocution and effect sans affection. Forgetfulness of passion as if you were an annoying passerby. Still you hold your breath after all the tears have puddled around the bathroom concrete, almost losing your sanity…repeat…repeat, and grace. Enough love left, your mind nearly slipped into the abyss, but you pointed a dagger finger at the enemy, the devil, and shouted adamantly, “No! No! No!” and God turned it all around, your anger buried underground, your love melted your husband’s heart. Reverberations of a sound mind go out…go out to all. Applause of angel armies, the good guys, the surprise of grace. Kiss…kiss…erase the bad times. Good times roll.