Catharsis

I’ve been angry.
I’ve been ashamed to be angry.

Blood pulses hot in my veins
dreams distressed
yet always composed
while strangled by a ghost.

Driving to work, enraged by the fog, I scream
and bang the steering wheel,
breathing heavy, reflection in the rear view mirror staring,
surprised, a bitter stranger.

But no tears.
Not a single tear.
a desert,
dust storms – no rain.

Why have you steered us here?
We could have been anywhere by now –
not 1,000,000 miles away from one another
with only one actually between.

It didn’t have to be this way…
I’m infuriated by you

And that’s okay.

Allowing myself to be human,
my resolve dissolves
heart exploding into fireworks

crumpling into myself like paper
unraveling with creases
no smooth surface
no more perfection.

And that’s okay, too.

I live
I breathe
feel.

To feel is to be human
to be human is to be angry –

But I know

when the storm has calmed
and tide recedes
the terrain will have shifted,
renewed by the devastation

somehow, more lush than before.

 

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