Rage

The seething waters took them. I rage, rage against the deluge, an unmoored, unrestrained rage. I rage for the innocents, a rage that drowns all else except more broiling, more roiling waves of rage, an anger that unstrings the harps of angels. Rage I now, at the blind horror of godforsaken moments that snatch all away as suddenly as a surging, untethered, Texas tsunami. I rage against the ever-deceitful aspirations of peace and calm, rage utterly against all heaven-sent calamities, rage most, upon this violent earthbound dream we have plunged into, it is a raging river that will sweep us all away, even little girls, all those struggling to still swim above such raging torrents only to slip through flailing hands as hope sinks below yet more tumultuous waters, waters which it has been written, that Jesus himself once walked upon.