I didn't know I had it in me;

This planetary-sized ball of hurt.

Anger thick as space junk—

Swirling in me

Like a tidal wave.

“I want to move through grief”

Say the tears brimming over

“I might be too tired”

Says the fear—excuses.

“I'm not sure I'm ready”

(When really I’m asking for help.)

I don't know

How

To

Express

My

Rage.

We've sat quietly for a time,

Where the voices of the feminine

Left whispers in the breeze

Gently tracing

The body of a man

Dancing

With a glass orb—

As mesmerizing

For his strength

As he is for his beauty.

“Can I borrow your light?”

Elen says,

Asking me a second time:

“Are you ready?”

All I can feel is—

'My soul breaking.'

The tears wet my face.

I've cried so much,

For so long.

It's too familiar;

Water is my second nature.

“Let’s go” Elen says,

With tender reassurance.

And before I can think,

My heart is nodding—yes.

She can see the fire in my eyes.

“This is something I have to do.”

And with that, we disappear

Into the woods.

“Cry properly—the trees will hold you.”

I stare at a leaf-littered floor

Take a breath

Close my eyes

Buckle under its weight,

And dive in.

Everything goes.

Black.

Pitch black.

Deep,

Dark

Soily

Skies.

Wild cries.

Voice fears.

Blood-ridden tears.

Unspeakable.

Sounds break

The unbreakable.

Prime audial screams.

Release deep dreams.

And out of the earth,

We reappear.

Unrestrainable

Nature

In

The

Light

Of

Rage.

‍

- Poem for Elen and the trees in Wasing Woods