"Anger as soon as fed is dead- / 'Tis starving makes it fat."
--Emily Dickinson
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.
_______________________
Sarah Sarai
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