Comprehending

Comprehending

You can taste rage.

Real, furious, trapped, caged

Rage.

There's a flavor for those screams:

Thick and sticky, dark like anise,

sharp like sauerkraut, bitter like blood.

Burnt and separated.

You can't swallow it.

Like peanut butter it sticks in your mouth, and it feels disturbingly like warm cream cheese.  

Everything about it is repulsive.

I am not talking about indignant anger,

or righteous anger,

or anger born of shame,

love, betrayal, or loss.

That scream rises from primal rage, from violation.

It explodes from total loss of control,

decimates trust,

ravages hope.

Does not satisfy.

Can never draw tears.

Offers no emotional release.

Has no conclusion.

That scream is resigned to its fate

yet railing against it fruitlessly.

It is surrounded on every side

by fear, reality, comprehension,

Desolation.

It can tear apart rocks,

rip furrows in the land,

crash waves against each other,

fell trees, lash wind,

unleash the fury of the heavens.

It must never be released.