ANGER

Anger, today I name you without hesitation. I will not soften you or turn you into anything else. You are anger, and I recognize you as you are. You are the tension that appears in my body, the heat that rises without asking permission, the pressure that pushes me to speak louder or to stay silent so I don't destroy what I care about.

Anger you are not poetry. You are physical and mental reaction that shows up when I feel ignored, when I feel used, when I feel treated as if I don't matter. You are the immediate response to injustice, to disrespect, to the repetition of the same thing over and over without anyone listening.

Anger, I have known you since childhood. I have felt you in my throat, in my hands, in my back. I have felt you when I was lied to, when I was minimized, when I had to endure more than I should have. You are not elegant, you are not calm, you are not gentle. But you are real.

Anger, I don't want you to control me, but I don't want to deny you either. I want to understand you without excusing you. I want to hear you without obeying you. I want to know when you come to protect me and when you come to push me toward harm. I want to learn how to stop you before you turn into something I am not.

Anger, today I name you because you exist. Because you live in me, because you appear when something breaks, when something hurts, when something repeats too many times. You are not my enemy, but you are not my guide. You are a signal. And today, for the first time, I look at you directly without fear and without shame.