This is only sortof a poem. Not my favorite and I keep editing the blasted thing. I was crabby. And I posted it and felt a little better. I listened to Sara Bareillies and felt a bit better. Then I saw this picture on Deb's "things could be worse" post here and it made me laugh out loud. So poetry is good for anger. Humor is good. I am pondering other things like throwing a pot--a clay one! :) And no I'm not angry with anyone who reads this blog. And I don't think it's about my parents either.
Someone said to me the other day "you are delightful"
People who are delightful don't get angry, "Do they?"
But I am. And I want it seen and heard, damn it.
"Um, is that ok?" I say sheepishly.
I am angry that I am angry.
I feel shame that I am angry.
I think I should not ever be angry.
So I try and titrate it.
A drop of blog voice here.
A drop of story about why, and them, and what.
A drop of holding still and feeling feelings,
not running away.
A deep breathe.
And the color changes from red to blue.
There is no explosion.
I might be ok.