What’s the Point?
Aug 05, 2009 in Poetry
What’s the point
I ask myself,
of holding onto pain?
“It’s not pain,”
I would argue,
“but my right to anger.”
But why cling to something
that’s clearly so destructive?
“It reminds me
to be careful
and never let my guard down.”
A costly reminder
I should say
as it fills up every space it occupies,
then it bleeds over into places it has no business being.
Until all joy and happiness becomes infected
with this hot poisonous stuff.
Does it really keep you safe
This righteous anger?
Does it lighten your heart
or crowd it so that there’s room for nothing else?
“It’s difficult,” I say,
“an old habit.”
Habits take time to break and work to do so.
“It’s scary,”
Of course,
it walks hand and hand with fear.
“But I’m tired of it.”
Yes, it will exhaust you in the end,
only take and give nothing back.
