When I sat down to write my end of year blog post, words didn’t come, in large part because this year has been so traumatizing.
So I quieted my mind as best I could and turned to the genre that allows me to process trauma and grief.
My anger roils
like the water I set to
boil
The daily atrocities
a slow burn
until they leave behind
nothing
but the stench of the
scorched pot
Scorched nation
Scorched world
Scorched planet
It’s tempting to hurl
that ruined cookware
with everything I’ve got
Like edgy pumpkin chucking
Or axe throwing
with less chance
of gross bodily injury
That primal desire is real
Maybe I give into it
And when my rage is spent
I rest
before I rummage around
and begin to fill
the space where anger
has evaporated
with something else
altogether
I gather the ingredients I need
Empathy
Love
Compassion
Kindness
Radical Acceptance
I gently mix
and set them to simmer
for hours
days
years
Until they fill the room
the country
the planet
the universe
with the delicious aroma
of hope
© Diane DeBella
