Posted by: Karla Stewart Okala | October 23, 2010


From the mountainside
you call for me
with a tumultuous roar
pulling me from sunlight
into, through, jungle-thick trees,
over smooth, slippery stones,
to your realm of precipices where
you hurl your rage headfirst over
breathless heights,
smash it into the stone below
and drive it relentlessly through
a chasm of curved rock into
the valley’s serene depths.
Following your fury there, I find
that our anger is now merely
an echo

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