dammed up
anger
creates
– like water –
a placid lake
above,
a rivulet
below.
evokes
images of
halcyon days;
vacation paradise,
a wonderland
a nice place to visit…
except we lived there
I still live there.
and here.
here –
there –
it’s safe,
you’re safe,
I’m safe.
All lies.
The river was meant to flow.
if I don’t feel
the anger
that keeps things
in their places
maybe it’s not real
or doesn’t matter
quite as much
as I
know
it
does
Or perhaps
perpetuating
peace
appears more prudent
than letting
untamed waters
surge and crash,
cascade off boulders,
and snap some trees.
Fear
keeps the dam in place.
and I’m the damned dam.
Removal scares us all.
free water
falling
rushing
maybe crushing
when the dam finally
gives way
when I
finally
give
way.
What happens
when nature takes its course?
defying atrophy 