Anger

No,
I don’t want to flounder
like a helpless fish in my anger.
Disguise the tears of my remorse
with words.
There is very little that justifies
the knife edge of a fierce nature.
I am doomed by sea’s end.
By the rafters above me,
from touching heaven.
I want only the flowers of my garden.
To meet children playing.
To be untroubled by the year,
the migration of birds.
I want only to love and be loved,
and have the treasure of patience.
A thistle among gentle beings,
that loves the sky as much as they.