Dec 14

Peace and Rage

Peace.
There are pieces of peace scattered across the hills,
thrown in corners with abandoned spider webs
and forgotten for decades.

Those pieces of peace do not deteriorate.
They only wait.
Patiently.

Observant eyes and carefully attuned ears can pick them out,
track them down,
gently pick them up
and blow the cobwebs away.
Returning happiness, laughter,
sunlight, trees,
companions to the world.

Peace reincarnated piece by piece.



Rage is red like a ruby.
It burns through everything in its way,
trailing hot coals and lifeless ashes in its wake.

Rage.
Four letters are weighed down by so much emotion.
   Clenched fists/  gritted teeth/  furrowed brows/  tight face.
Rage bubbles up inside me
like water boiling over the edges of the pot,
spilling and leaping from its rim, to fizz,
hiss and spit
on the burner below.

spit
hiss
spit

The violent crackles and pops echo amongst themselves
like shattering glass
again and again and again.

The pot has boiled dry.
It is silent now.
The hiss and fuss are gone.

The pot still stands on the ignited burner,
its bottom scorching, baking, cracking.
The aluminum overheating, silently.

The water no longer boils out of control but the heat remains and damages.

Rage still destroys.