I thought very seriously about sharing this poem. I originally wrote it several years ago, but I’ve updated it since then. It’s about the internal anger, which I feel now that it’s no longer possible to be angry with the appropriate person. Not knowing how to deal with my rage, despite my therapist’s suggestions of punching cushions, screaming into pillows, yelling to loud music etc., the only outlet I have for my feelings is my writing. I hope you will understand my reason for sharing this somewhat uncomfortable and sombre poem, and please know that I don’t wish to offend anyone who may read this.
How do I shield my mind, my darling
from the wrath, I have towards myself
or the tongue, as sharp as a blade
that spits bitter words with every breath?
My soul shrouded by secrets untold,
whipped by the wind in a hot desert storm
beaten against fresh, fair skin;
sour, narrow eyes, blinking.
My spirit dances with hollow sighs
and its shadow falls and tumbles
into the darkest of clouds;
tears flow freely into the midnight sky.
But now, my scarlet demons
run screeching from the hills
and the steep mountains rage;
and then forever hushed.