Notes About The Poem
This is about the "Anger" stage of the "Five Stages of Grief"
My Pain Is Mine
I am being told to let go
By almost everyone I know
Release, let it out, let it be
Plunge into passivity
While I howl to bitter beauty
My bruises bloom a thorny tree
Guarding roses of agony
My pain is mine, it belongs to me
This torment is my blood, it breathes
with every breath, it beats with my heartbeats
Within my tears, it weeps
It shrieks, uncoiled, beneath my skin
Where the sin of suffering begins
It is my fertile fury, my hellish choir
My savage soul, my cathartic fire
It is large and lush and livid
Conquering and vivid
It is too precious, too valuable, to trade away or wallow
in trinkets, or flimsy platitudes, or empty cliches, or hollow
promises of unfulfilling fortresses to follow
Their learned words I dare spurn
For to recover, I must burn
So I will keep this, for I know its worth,
even if their unsolicited, unwarranted, intrusive,
Questioning and questionable, inconclusive
Unadvised advisors do not grant it girth
It is in my pain I find
What I wish most
Where rage of kindness blinds
My grieving ghosts.
5/20/18
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