A poem expressing the sensation of rage, and working through it.
A good day turns sour fast,
only takes one trigger.
Electric thoughts, downward spiral
The fluttering numbness in your chest.
Pin pricking palpitations,
Gutteral sensations,
Rage scalding the tongue,
Boiling beneath the skin.
Breath held, fists clenched,
Offered y our heart on a platter of sleeves,
Suited up with a bulletproof vest.
Tongue poised, coiled tight,
Fierce as a pit viper,
Ready to strike.
But don’t speak,
No, don’t move, yet.
Fight, Flight, Freeze.
Before you react,
Remember these steps.
Five things you can see:
Red Jacket,
Brown Shoes,
The ground in front of you,
Turquoise beads,
And Leather Bracelets.
That part is easy.
Now, count four things you can feel:
Anxiety stone, smooth and slick.
Soft beads wrapped around my wrist.
Temples throbbing with my pulse.
Granite mala wrapped around my neck.
And three things you can hear:
Thoughts on repeat.
Wait, that’s not what it means.
The wind gushing through the window.
Clenched jaw, gritting teeth.
Just let me be angry.
A bird cawing the distance.
Okay, that’s three.
Name two things you can smell:
Incense on the burner,
And fresh coffee brewing.
A momentary smile comes with.
One thing you can taste:
Reality,
It’s a bitter pill to swallow,
But swallow it, I will.
Now, do you remember?
There is love underneath.
The red filter lies to your eyes.
You can utter those words,
You know the ones.
So callous and cruel,
They could be shot from a gun.
So don’t speak, don’t move.
Take a breath,
Count to three.
You can still walk away,
Escape all the regret
Before you say something that can’t be unsaid.
