the weight of anger
is immense
tense and tiresome
dragging the heart down to the
level of nothing good
no laughter, no singing
it steals your voice and takes
all your choices for itself
it changes all the colors like
some bad adjustment, all tinged with
mad, sad, hurt, can’t even separate the parts
the heart beats faster and I hear
that tone in my voice you know
the one that sounds like
a banshee, like fingernails
on chalkboards
like a lonely cat
back up, fur bristled
like thistles. prickle
changed no longer
who I am but taken
by the weight
of anger
This is beautiful, Dee: poignant and devastatingly true. Definitely one for that volume of Collected Works I’m hoping to see from you someday…
Oh yes..certainly know that feeling..though the way you have written it is so compact, controlled and charged…always good to let the stick of dynamite go off every once in a while though…i hope you are ok…thank you for your support these past few weeks xo
Beautiful!