Rage

17.02.08 (still in process)

It wasn't a song that day.
It was Rage.
It simmered, simmered for many months
before she could no longer
Hold the heat.

It was harm that lived inside her,
and she was afraid
it might seek revenge without
Consideration of who
and when it might strike

So she stopped and heard, instead --

the voices of all
who had ever been made
to feel or seem less than
they could have known in shadows --
not their own, but darker

Every one that had been silenced
Every part untold, abandoned
Still alive beneath the dirty
breath and sweat of greed --
She recognized as part of her voice
and her story in all of the
Voices and Stories.

She let them rise as a chorus of broken,
looking for other shards of broken
Wholeness that wanted itself again

But she could not go back
or forward to find it --
Only in and through
the now of breaking --

She found it
in pieces
Curious to join what seemed familiar
Dissonance giving way to heat
Gathering pressure,
the pressure of rage
Rising rage

The simmering now boiling,
She spoke to the ones pretending
Not to see her
staggering as a servant,
Once too young
Now seeming too old and worn
to manage their load

She spoke to them, knowing it meant
Nothing right then –-
She could see that
in the absence of their seeing,
They would not hear
Her voice, the sound 

they knew was strong --
however faint it first was
when they shoved it back inside her.
along with their fear.
They knew she could hold it
as Silence, the way
they denied the wounds
and tried to control
Her voice, becoming
Strong with the weight of burdens
They refused and inflicted

Silence, the way
she almost died,
the way she survived.

Remembering this dying,
still hoping for life,
The heat increased and overflowed
boiling out of bounds
Set by trying to contain
the past in a past

that does not forget

or fully remember.

No longer able to be silent

or order madness into words

All she could do was make noise

with the crashing of dishes,
Against the sink, overflowing
with cups, silverware, pans, and plates
Banging against the metal
and each other
As if she could infuse a spark
of rebellion in their lifeless shapes,
a purpose and a message
of refusal to remain debased.

But Rage has a way, if you wait.
Keep it restrained, but not too tight
And the heat will eventually
Melt the bars of its cage
If it knows you understand
When it needs to fly
It will bear a song.
And a bird will sing it and carry it,
carry you away,
far away from the burning.

And the ones who have been sleeping
instead of seeing,
They keep on sleeping.

[I know where it goes, I know

I will answer when it calls
It will carry me
Where I need to be.
It will carry you
and let you lead
the way.
Your voice already knows
the song]