A tiny seed.
Planted, maybe you.
Maybe by others.
It's a weird thing.
When it turns out that seed is rage.
Rage that has been unintentionally watered.
And you would think that as you see her, she lessons.
As you feel her, she goes away.
But no.
Not yet anyway.
It's like the more you bring your awareness to her,
The more it fuels her.
Like a campfire hit with the perfect gust of wind to explode into a full blown forest fire.
Like Te Kā searching for her heart.
She moves and yells.
She burns.
She soars.
She screams.
She shakes.
She punches.
She grasps.
She growls.
She can feel the fire move through her like lava and a tornado got tangled up.
And it doesn't feel like enough.
Not enough attention.
Not enough awareness.
Not enough fuel.
Not nearly enough fire.
But so much fire.
Like every little thing bleeds more and more fire.
Til it's oozing out in all ways, all consuming.
You can't even recognize her anymore.
Maybe that's the point.
But she's tired.
She's exhausted.
How does she soften?
How does she soften?
I feel this, sometimes I want to rage so big it burns the house down.