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Drinking my own anger

I couldn’t hit the earth in my bouts of anger; as it
was the one which grew the food necessary for my
survival,

I couldn’t hit the wall in my bouts of anger; as it
was the one which sequestered my scalp against
tumultuous storm and rain; it was the one which constituted and
fortified my dwelling,

I couldn't hit the tree in my bouts of anger; as it
was laden with the fruits I nibbled in my times of
relish; imparted me with velvety breeze in the
sweltering night,

I couldn’t hit the mirror in my bouts of anger; as it
magnificently portrayed to me my pellucid and candid
reflection; and doing so I knew would exacerbate the
situation further; would make my own hand bleed,

I couldn’t hit mothers stomach in my bouts of anger;
for it was the singular pouch which had bore me for 9
months unrelentingly; the very sacred sac which was
responsible for my existence today,

I couldn’t hit the snake in my bouts of anger; for it
guarded my treasury of wealth unflinchingly all night
and day; and would viciously retort back the instant I
raised my fingers to strike,

I couldn’t hit the Sun in my bouts of anger; for it
was the sole source of light which maneuvered me in
the day; lit up my every morning with an enchanting
smile,
I couldn’t hit the child in my bouts of anger; for it
was all the energy I possessed; was the sweetest
little form of God running gleefully on this earth,

I couldn’t hit the waters in my bouts of anger; for
they were the ones who pacified my thirst several
times a day; blended my life with loads of mesmerizing
cool and shade,

I couldn’t hit the silver plate in my bouts of anger;
for it was the one in which I actually consumed my
food three times in a day; and insulting it could
probably result in not getting food even three times a
year,

I couldn’t hit the car in my bouts of anger; for it
was the one which transported me marathon distances;
saw to it that I my feet rested in luxury; as I
reached the summit at whirlwind speeds,

I couldn’t hit my beloved in my bouts of anger; as she
was the one who transpired me to live every second;
she was the one who took upon herself every affliction
to save me from the tiniest of wound today,

I couldn’t hit my sister in my bouts of anger; as she
was the one whom I played with irrespective of my
augmenting age; with whom I shared all my secrets of
life; sometimes woke her even in the middle of the
night,

I couldn’t hit my pet dog in my bouts of anger; as he
was the one who was the first to welcome me at
ethereal dawn; wag his tail incessantly until the time
I took him in my arms,

I couldn’t hit my eye in my bouts of anger; for it was
the only instrument whom I relied upon to sight this
world; and also it would incorrigibly shut tight; as I
tried and approached it with my fist,
I couldn’t hit the century old boat in my bouts of
anger; as it was the one on which my ancestors sailed;
the one where my rudimentary roots lay profoundly
embedded,

I couldn’t hit the cow in my bouts of anger; as it was
the only animal which gave me sacrosanct milk;
impregnated my bones with Herculean strength to take
on the mantle of this entire world,

I couldn’t hit the idol of God in my bouts of anger;
as it was the one who had evolved me and my kin in the
first place; would
burn me to inconspicuous ash the moment I irritably
hurled my fingers towards his Omnipotent form,

And I couldn’t hit a single thing on this earth; for
whatever I hit was something sacred or something which
was intimately dear; something which I possessed or
something which had possessed me for infinite years,

That’s when I decided to wholesomely DRINK MY OWN
ANGER; whenever I was infuriated and my body
reverberated beyond the point of no control; rather
than unnecessarily victimizing somebody, taking it out
on the innocent world…

(c) (r) copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. all rights reserved.

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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