Smell the Fury

---

Raped by life she thunders past
discarding old sins and new ones cast.
Trees crackled, trembled and smoked
when seared by her passing, angry cloak.

From her a deep sigh which grief did force
ragged like air from the deep, dark North.
So much the she longed for that she spat and quaked.
Her anger grew, the ground thundered and did shake.

Envy bred in her breast and she bled;
she slumped in the blood and counted her dead.
Her respect for mankind became less and less
and her burning contempt she did express.

Within her ravaged body was a story
but not one of joy, peace and glory.
Her hatred had burst into wild flame
and her anger knew no boundaries, no shame.

Her memories of past moments she would cherish
for within a few seconds all had perished.
Try as she might to outrun the foul wind
the holocaust caught her and had her pinned.

A few pieces of her will remain behind
after she lashes out and her fury climbs.
The weeping stars in her eyes
will be her last, when she cries.

Carmen Eva - carmen.eva@sympatico.ca