hand still on the rudder

buffeted in winds

anger seduces us
with its simple elegance of pure feeling,
a self-righteousness that rises up
and declares what is,
no ambiguity to parry the thrust of self outward,
our fury can convince us we’re in touch with our emotions,
whereas I contend that one emotion can blind us
to the range of self we can express,

when we lose control in sobbing, or laughing, reactions,
we stay in touch with our depths,

we parallel our early childhood
when truth didn’t shade into subtleties
or hide behind bulwarks of denial,
joy and despair the two faces each moment can wear,

maturity allows us to keep the rudder in control
to hold us forward,
despite buffeting winds that tear at us,

I, for one, need to let
my emotions blow free every once in a while
and trust that I will continue forward,
my hand still on the rudder,
despite how well I can let myself feel the buffeting
of how unfair and hurtful the world can be.

by Henry H. Walker
January 20, ’12