2021-11-08T14:09:31-08:00December 30th, 2011|Musings on life|


You imagine it will dismantle you
to shed the rage

as though it is the supporting beam,
the fuel,
the thing that pushes back
against the sorrow.

But it is not an ally,
it is a sack of rocks
you wear as a coat,
making you grey
and small.

You don’t have to do it publicly
at first.

Test it on a tree,
write it down,
say it out loud
under water.

But don’t let your hands drag the memories
into another year
like a corpse
you won’t bury.

Unfurl those fingers,
You will see that the pain will not drown you.
With your hands empty,
you will float.

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