Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Rage

The sound of hooting and shouting behind the steering wheel sends a cascade of traffic crawling down the street while two men arguing about time started a heated debate in front of the gate. None of them seems to agree with each other, each one contradicting the other and the passersby emits an energy that rocks the sky. 

It transcends a pillar of smoke in the atmosphere blackening the clouds and disrupting the rhythm in the street and the birds on their migration journey fly around in confusion seeking fresh air.  

I sat on the seat of mercy watching them shouting outing on for glory stuck in mid-air and deprived of fresh air with nothing to hold on to but their faith, stalled breaks and a frozen battery. 

Anxious passengers screaming and shouting, others holding on to their children trying to comfort them. They were all clothed in emergency suit waiting for the time to open the parachute.  

I watched him from above through cockpit glass, he looked calmed, reserved and undisturbed, midths the chaos he silently mapped out a safety plan before he attempts to land.  

While chaos was erupting behind him, a ferocious wind come chiming in, they could feel the turbulence from the earth when a miraculous wind propels the plane in another direction and it went on an unknown path.  

While confusion was mounting behind him, he got his communication back on track and continued the journey from a different direction. 

The rage continues in the street with taxi operators throwing punches at another, one man got shot in his leg while another passed out and lay dead. 

 Check your temperature before you venture out and ignore the blowing horns and the musical sounds. When the ugly frown stares in your face ignore them and go your way or they will shoot you dead in the middle of the day. The rage is all around the town and it will take you to where destiny is bound.

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