Floundering at the bottom of the darkest pit
Where he choked with every spluttered curse
His life depending now on letting anger go
He staggered to the sea to drown and killing heal
Then afterward in cooler reborn circumstance
He sat on a bench and stared at the calming surf
Considered now that moment of near blind death
Then picked up a pebble and scratched away
Another angry person’s etched in rage
To erase them all rolling rock to the top
To stand again where the air would better health
A place to reflect clearly on the fury he’d escaped
And turn away freed from his worst of times
Toward a place where he’d forget all the reasons to rave
Note: I finished my annual reading of The Catcher in the Rye last night. The older I get, reading it affects me in various and different ways.
Lanning Lee 