Rage
A Poem
Rage. Rage. Lightning burst and blind. Thunder
rage and crush, crack earth; explosion and crevasse.
Thrash tree, twist and fall; rock like finest china blast.
Rage, wind, rage. Shake foundations, split air and ear.
Bundled staves of forces fling at earth and man.
Crows and ravens flail, plow raging, earthen air,
grow weary, finally quail to quaking ground
for respite from fierce bitterness;
wet-eyed owls abandon swivel-headed dignity
in frantic search of sheltered stump,
deep hole darker than the darker night.
All crouch, cower, beg and fall, bend double
under fear, seek refuge any slightest slit might yield.
He stood and raged – raged! – deafened by blear enfilade,
lightning might throughout the demon-studded night;
raised silvered threat of fist to god, and shook
the centers of the world with outrage and defiance.
He leaped and shouted at the storm, raged at rage,
joined, united with the rage; out-raged the rage
bolt for bolt, when flamed by bolt and turned to ash...
then raged – raged! – in god's hard face,
undeterred, undiminished, unabashed.
Copyright by Don Gray
