If I could
I would turn over tables
in the temple
But my anger
Is not righteous
It’s wrong
If I could
I would let my words
boil forth from my mouth
But my words
stay simmering
inside
If I could
I would rage like a storm
lightning and thunder and hail
But my rage
will subside
eventually
My anger is
red around the
edges
It grows outward, a
raw mess with a
beat of its own
My heart is
spiked and secure,
a shiny light
encased in leather
My eyes are
foolish
and my mind is
unreliable
My hands are
phantoms, feeling
for hope
My lips already forgot
Most of me has
surrendured but
my soul
…… still
…………waits
christywrites 