By Beth Silverman Landau

 

There is a fury that builds in me,
Erupting in my chest,
Filling my head with static and an
Overwhelming no.
Rising to blind paroxysm, I
Retort, curse, clench,
Cry, scream, recklessly propel my body
As this tempest presses me to roar,
Hurl this water bottle at the wall,
Strike the person nearest me and
Make my erratic wrath envelop
Someone else
Now.

This violence brings no satisfaction.
My screams amplify my static,
Heighten the electric hum in my hands, and
Feed a desperate rage, demanding expression.
Broken cabinets and shattered dishes,
My own crescent pocked palms can attest to this.

Abandoned by this fury,
I am left exhausted and broken amidst ruins,
Consumed again.
Again.
I cannot do this again.

I will breathe in. I will breathe out.
I will breathe in. I will breathe out.

I will not feed this beast.
I will not fuel my fury.
I will breathe and in this move past.
I will keep the fury at bay with inaction,
Quiet my mind,
Silence my static.

There is a fury that builds in me,
Held at bay by only breath.