there is an anger to this world.
there is a harsh reality that hides
under bloody remains and
between broken tiles.

there is an anger to the
collapsed hope you buried
in your backyard after
the wind shifted.

there is an anger that tingles up
the back of your spine,
a taunting that cringes
at an outreached hand.

there is an anger that flaps
in the wind like your country’s flag
delivering used miracles and
unpackaged promises.

there is an anger in the neglected
whispers that gasp for a chance,
grasp for the isolated sunlight
in your eyes.

there is an anger in the denied
hands of a hungry child,
the burning eyes of the parents
who cannot provide.

there is an anger in the heart of the
tear stained mother who chokes by
her son’s life support, the father
who cries when no one’s awake.

there is an anger in the footsteps
in iraq, the forgotten casualties whose
souls are left unmarked but
engraved in their daughter’s silver locket.