Rage Poem by Midnight Clarity

I work with words, with paint, with clay;
Spirit gave me talents
I spend freely celebrating life.
Spirit, Source and Being are my Trinity
the Wiccan Rede commandments
I respect and strive to live by.
Spirit gave me feelings
and I honour them
not just the milky sweetnesses of joy
of happy but the bitter chocolate
of sad of sorrow
the plangent twang of fear
that tastes of metal in the mouth
the deep resounding gong
of facing a reality
I do not want or like
but shoulder every day
as Source and Being gave it me
for mine to find the meaning in
gold and diamonds waiting to be found
and at times I stagger
this gift I’ve carried fourteen months
beating all their deadlines
lighting up my day with pain,
labour producing echoes
of a fragile self made stronger
through each rebirth
but fragile still, and human
acknowledging my weakness
gathering my will
and walking through the fire
on a leg that may just shatter
when I step with it.
Don’t tell me how to speak,
what shape to give my words
until you learn to see. to read
to hear the deep acceptance
flowing through my struggles
as I live each day out loud
and honestly, no ersatz Pollyanna
calling the bitter sweet
but the heartbreak of my frailty
marching, limping step by step
to match the bedrock of my faith,
my certainty that Spirit, Source and Being
will always have my back.
because they listen, really listen
and don’t assume, assigning meaning
to words which written down or spoken
are just a puff of air.