Ilyse Whitney CC
I am trying to bond with my anger.
We are nothing more than acquaintances.
(I once enjoyed lying to myself.)
I do not know, anger.
She does not know me.
With no room to exist,
denied a space or acknowledgement,
the waters of my depression
tried to swallow her.
When she boiled, small spikes
of a hot burning flood hit my chest.
But I am starting to learn
there is a deep beauty in the
oxygen hitting my open flame.
I once wanted to bend water,
so I could hide from the fire,
burning me from the inside out.
Hiding was my only option.
If she escaped my waterfalls,
wouldn’t she catch all the budding
flowers and falling leaves aflame?
What if it all burned, and all I had was
a flood of depression and a scorched land,
a raging fire unable to tame.
It felt safer to lock her away.
But I am learning,
she is not there to torch,
she is there to burn my weeds,
to keep my heart warm, to fuel
my biking, my running, my gardening.
She is wild and sometimes,
so blue -
she can destroy the water
rising within me.
Anger’s fire is more
than an acquaintance:
Sophia is a writer by morning and teacher by day. She lives and works as a middle school teacher in the mountains. Her writing has appeared in Entropy Magazine and Phoebe Journal. When she is not writing or teaching, she can be found watching queer cartoons or making mint tea.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.