May 9th, 2002

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Rage

Do you think that makes me less dangerous, or more dangerous?
-Shaft


I'd like to think of myself as an intelligent, rational, gentle person. Yet there are things in this world that ignite a smoldering rage within me. A lot of it (loathe as I am to admit it) is willful male bravado, a testosterone-fueled haze that occurs as we hurt or see others hurt and feel powerless to help, comfort, or stop the pain. Another part is deeper and scarier by far.

Like all my emotions of recent days, I'm in over my head on this one, too. Restraint is taking so much of my energy; I've tasted bile throughout the day. A couple of blow-ups, too-- I'm glad I've been in the office alone today. I long for the strange stillness of yesterday afternoon (not just for myself) and a shared recipe for tea.

Community Group is not something I look forward to tonight. I can't invite them to be where I am. Now, that's not even where I want to be. I just want to be where there's the clink of a teacup and an occasional glance upward.

And I don't know if I can have it.
  • Current Mood
    enraged enraged
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Exodus

I do not know
that things released into the desert
can truly be counted lost.

I cannot hold onto them.
Look at my hands–
you can see the burns.

But I have a God.
He specializes in lost things,
in those released into deserts.
They are His people.
He has chosen them.

The land is promised.
I've never seen it,
though maybe I've caught a glimpse.
So I'll wait, and I'll follow;
Try not to run ahead or lag behind.

And count nothing, nothing lost
I have released in the desert.
I do not know His ways.