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.
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