13,000 Pound African Bush Elephant
Anger sits on my chest like a 13,000 pound African Bush Elephant.
Unable to breathe.
Seething with unexpressed pain and suffering.
Today’s or yesterday’s? I am not sure.
Or am I?
Was it her words?
Or his words?
Was it the fucking cable customer service rep’s words?
Feel it in my whole body?
How…when it doesn’t move out of my chest?
To express it is to cause more pain and suffering.
To deny it allows it to grow inside because no matter how heavy the elephant, anger won’t just leak out of my body. It won’t be squashed out. It sits there. In the chest. Leaving me to wonder where that damn elephant came from. Knowing that’s not the right question…
No matter who puts it on, or how one wears it, anger isn’t pretty
…and yet it can’t just be removed…discarded like an old shirt that no longer fits.
What would Buddha do? Or Jesus? Or any enlightened one? It’s in the scriptures. What was it again?