somehow,
throwing a simple stone
helps me remember
the heavy in my body.
the ripples of water are
different than the
sounds of shattering ceramic.
satisfying a deep well in my soul,
join me?
can i see your rage?
will you witness me in my distress?
as we sweep up the mess
trying to put this place back
in order,
my grief meets your grief and our grief laughs back
because there is space for joy.
even when the shards remain
penetrating the soil our grandchildren will eat from
the waste we cause after reuse, somehow
amidst everything beautiful and zen in the garden,
there is still a rage,
a sadness.
ahhh (ahhh) ahhhhhhhh!
whenever you feel this again
meet me at the rage station.
winter to spring transition- Ramsey Harvey 2025- cite me
thank you for your attention