Rage-Beast

So, I told you that I was going to be sharing some personal pieces with you and this is one of them. I was going to hold off on it, but someone said something last night that upset me and I thought that this would be perfect for how I was feeling afterwards.

"Rage dwells deep in me; tamped down to a super-hot ember and covered in a deep drift of ash like a dormant volcano under its blanket of trees. People come along and prod at my rage, stirring up the embers, wanting me to discuss my feelings, to let go and tell them how I really feel. I think they'd wilt and scorch from my rage if I let it loose. It's a beast that I feel move in my chest late at night, its reptilian wings rattling along my ribs, eyes glowing with the poisons that circulate in its blood. I keep my rage-beast chained down; I'm safe from it for the time being but I know that its viscous blood will leach into my very marrow--slowly, slowly poisioning me if I don't slay it first. But for now, I delude myself into thinking I've tamed it; my rage-beast, my anger-dragon, the reptile of hate in my breast that I've incubated from an egg."

I think that all too often as Christians, we are not allowed by our fellow Christians to truly express how angry we are, whether it's at God, circumstances or other people. I find it much easier to simply smile and assure those who ask that I'm "doing OK, thanks!", rather than tell them how I don't sleep at night, how I've taken to gritting my teeth, how I can't focus on reading a book which was my favorite thing to do. And I'm not mad at God nor am I mad at my parents for dying; I'm mad at people who think I need to talk through every emotion without thinking I may still be numb and I'm mad at the people who I think should have been there for me but I haven't heard anything from them. I know eventually I'll need to relinquish my rage, but for now, it's the one thing that I can feel through my numbness.