Let Anger Bang Its Head

 

Let Anger Bang Its Head 

Anger is the word that lives behind the door

that remains closed – a stain of outrage

seeps under and rises up as I wipe it

with cloths of protest and activism 

hope, poetry and determination – but

Anger stays behind the door – they 

tell me, tell me, tell me, that  to live without 

anger is impossible, disingenuous, 

sanctimonious, even a blatant lie, and yet… 

Anger is the word that lives behind the door, as

I stand on the other side - aware of its possibility

skeptical of its productivity when outrage and

action, reflection, and when possible - reconciliation 

wave bright banners of hope and possibility as anger

silently broods, stews, festers, contained and unneeded.

For I do know that anger holds its finger ever on a trigger –

grasps  the shaft of a shiv – for anger is blind, dumb and active 

Let anger stay behind the door – let it bang its empty blinded

head against the walls until it distills its fetid blood to useful outrage, 

and then, and then, - I shall take those clean cloths of hope and 

wipe and wipe and wipe 

what I can clean, aware when to enlist 

help when all that  -is - 

is just too much to bear

alone.