With Such Sad Rage We Cry

 

His outrageous anger.

His profanity laced shouting and

attempts to intimidate those around

him by menacingly getting close to

people’s faces.  His rage, snorting

through his throbbing nostrils,

made me feel very sad for him.

 

His rage also terrified me.

Terrified me because I was reminded

of my own rageful moments,

when I was blinded by red

and any rational thought was

pushed out of my mind by the

fires of anger.

 

I felt sad for myself.

Embarrassed.

I felt sad for the man, screaming from

his misdirected self-loathing.

Embarrassed for him.

His blood boiling anger, familiar,

yet so strangely foreign now.

 

I still get mad, I still get

angry, but I don’t think I’m

wild with rage, spitting and spewing it

on everyone around me.

And if I still do, I am sorry.

I don’t like that one bit.

It makes me ashamed.

 

Watching this man, frothing with

anger over the perceived slights to

his beliefs, scared me.

I felt the jittery, pulse quickening,

adrenaline start flowing, even

though I was not directly involved and

was watching from the safety of a

computer screen.

 

I felt scared for the people he was

shouting at, I felt bad that he was once

a child, giggling at the antics of some

silly thing, with all the potential of the

joyful world at his fingertips. Only now,

he was reduced to a quivering rage man,

panting with fury.

 

“How awful,” I said.

 “How sad this makes me,” I said.

 

How lost he had become,

shouting in the faces of other

human beings to scare and intimidate,

so lonely he must be in the solitude

of his anger, how sad I am for him.

 

How sad I am for all those

lost in their rage.

How sad I am for those times I

was lost.

 

Rage is not an answer,

but a symptom of something far

worse.

A stubborn unwillingness to bend,

to see something from another perspective,

to try and understand that for all of

human history the only thing we have is

each other.

 

And to vilify each other,

to belittle each other,

to needle and poke each other,

to yell and curse at each other,

tears down the world

so many died to build.

                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artist:

Francis Bacon

 (British, 1909–1992)

Title:

Portrait - Man screaming

 , 1952–1952

Medium:

Oil on Canvas