The rage-unaware therapist
Concluded I must have
Control and independence issues
Because of my distrust of God
I wanted to leap on her desk,
Claw and scratch the annoying,
Mahogany-mirrored surface,
And rip the tedious, artsy prints off the wall.
I wanted to hurl her smiling, family pictures
And priggish, velvet-upholstered furniture
Through the over-large, antique windows,
Listening for the satiating crash below.
But most of all
I wanted to erupt my belly-full of emotions
And dragon-breath the whole room,
Hell
Blaze down the whole world
While I’m at it,
Down to embers and coals,
Letting my lack of trust in God
Bleed out through my pores
And rot gratefully in the earth.
Still sitting in the room,
Outwardly composed and reflective
I’m left with a humming inside
From my illusory deluge,
A buzzing, electrical charge
Vibrating in my ears and in my bones,
Like the call of a courting bird
Moving through layers of dense wood,
Reaching across foggy ravins
And bands of forest chirps and chitter,
Inexplicably received
By its intended
As a shivery echo of throat-song,
A summoning pulse of hope.
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