There’s rage, not mine but inherited,
Passed on in the blood
Handed down from untold mothers and mothers of mothers
Tapping deep into my core
At the centre is fire flame lava
Burning melting destroying
With memory
With knowledge
With awareness
With everything seen and heard, felt, lived, experienced
Fury feeds itself
Turning out and in
(More often in than out)
And someday must make a change
Out not in…
Another old poem
Random Ramblings 