[Annie]: 415.Poetry.Wilted

Wilted
by Annie T.
A reply to "Rage" by Mary Oliver

Rage is so easy
To apply to him or her,
But the feelings really
Are not so easy to describe.
Father my flower
Is wilting, get some water?
But it will keep on wilting
Because the water
Is all dried up.
He contemplates his actions
He cries and yells
And beats himself up.
She cries too,
She beats herself up,
But who has more years ahead?
Who has more life to live?
Who has more moments
That will be dissonant like
A stained-glass window?
The darkness of the night
Is nothing compared to
The darkness of the day.
His bruises are her bruises,
And her failures will
Forever be his punishment.
It was like a dream it seemed
Quickly happening
Quickly passing
But even dreams are reality
In a way.
And reality often seems
Like a dream.