Rage Against That Within

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 I love you.

Photo by Victoria Feliniak on Unsplash

I don't resonate with the ones who seem deeply lodged in lives entwined with those of others. I don't resonate with the family photos or the endless parade of babies. I can't but look within, and within, and within. 

I love you. 

Words that unbecome me, unbecome the context, unbecome everything and yet they live forever on my lips, excusing every slip, and warding against every terror that comes creeping in under the cover of night or midday. 

I love you. 

If I could scoop this well of rage empty with my bare hands, it's what I would find at the bottom. If I could tear away the shimmering veils that flicker tantalizingly at the edges, this is what I would find hiding behind them. If I could claw open the layers of my own shame and guilt, this is what I would unearth. 

I love you. 

A gift, a curse, a benediction, an oath to keep with a final breath. I love you. I look within.

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