Volume

sometimes I have to yell;
it comes out like vomit –
this poison that sits so deeply
made from too many years of
ill conceived waste disposal programs.
sometimes I need to scream;
the currents of the continents
smashing together in an ageless dance
pushing rage out into the sky,
into the ears.
sometimes I require violent release
from the bondage of uncharted acceptance,
indifference and platitude.
ROAR like the lion I can not be
ROAR like thunder that courses inside me
ROAR like fires burning my hurt
ROAR until the beasts of the field
run and hide in fear and anxiety.
I prefer to think of it as bellowing;
sometimes I need to bellow
and beat my chest and groan
so all of the jungle knows
that I am still alive and kicking.