How long can such corrosion last
that wears and tears down to the soul
to eat away the waking hours…
by now it seems it should have passed
its half-lives clinging, lingering on.
Cruel entity that gained control
to augment into monstrous thing—
where anger nourishes the hate
it manifests, exacting toll;
malignancy that won’t abscond.
I heard the words and felt the sting,
your verbal dagger bruised the bone;
no salve was offered to appease—
accelerating to the brink
where loathing and resentment spawned.
And thus the seeds of scorn were sown
to root and grow for seven years
till animus has run its course…
Now comes a calling to atone
will peace be found in my response?
Too long the anger has adhered
to scourge and scar, insult, cajole;
to mar the surface to the bone.
The acid cuts through my veneer;
yet in its tenure, I have grown.
The time has come to cede control:
once more I morph, becoming whole.
© Ginny Brannan 2016