"Anger as soon as fed is dead- / 'Tis starving makes it fat."
Ignoring the red zone does make things worse and could lead to explosion, but even Mother Earth needs to explode now and then.
Anyway, few nights ago I came across that couplet and mentally bookmarked it. It reminded me of my poem, not published, "Distance in Nature."
I was syllable counting at the time I write "Distance," which seems a perfect approach for a description of an emotion so baffling (sometimes) we work to contain it. Unexpressed love is sad. Unexpressed anger is, huh, sad, too, but I was going to say, fearsome and controlling.
(By the way, the Easter scene, those eggs with the tiny tableaux, like ships in bottles--not sure they are still around.)
Distance in Nature
Fitted glass seals the shell.
Hissing sand, mollusks, trapped.
Great wonder? Bare feet best.
This separateness not good:
No Easter scene in egg.
A shell is bad enough.
Great anger? Estrangement
From compassion. Distance
In nature, swept away.