Anger

Rebuked, she turned and ran,
Seeking refuge in the up-hill barn,
Anger burnt in her like a dark fire
Inspiring the madness higher.

She felt overwhelmed by its power,
Her life flashed by making her suffer
Anger smirked with pleasure
Ruining her composure for a good measure

The anger caused pain inside
And the pain in turn, will cause
More malice to her hand.
Too terrible to understand

She forced her breath steady
To face her anger she was ready
She saw the still water in the trough
The calm within forced the anger back off

It is when we retreat in anger
We think we burn alone
And there is no balm.
Then the water enters without a sound, always.

 

Of Memories And Moving On

A memory. It’s like sand, brittle rock — a shard of the original substance, a snapshot in a long and confusing movie, a particle of space and time. It’s minuscule but it lingers. It will swallow you up if you let it. It’s like going on a fast, you feel satisfied at first, but you always end up starving.

You can explain a memory to someone, but you can’t make them feel it. You can’t describe how your heart skips a beat when a certain someone looks deeply into your eyes. You can’t recreate the overwhelming content that rushes over when you win after losing for so long. You can’t explain the adrenaline surging through when you are on a roller coaster.

We all get frustrated when we romanticize the past. We miss the things we’ve lost, the places we’ve left, and the people we used to be. We miss the times that were familiar, and we long for the moments that have gone by. But you can’t live through memories, and you don’t grow by being comfortable. You have to fail before you can dream, and you have to hurt before you can love. You must bleed for the wound to heal, but eventually you need to slap on a band-aid and get on with your life.

And that’s what I try to do.

A memory: I was drowning.
And then I learned how to swim.
Towards a brighter future.