A Coming of Rage Thomas Merton Brightman All rights reserved Father shot Teddy, my pet beagle He shot my pet rooster, Rudy His message not lost Done with that kid? Take him out and shoot him Dad was done with me before birth Father liked his rage Momentarily freed him of his cage He seemed to enjoy my terror Whilst deflecting his errors Everyone appeared a threat to father Yet, I was the one against whom he railed I was between him and mother Other threats by comparison paled Father put himself in his cage Not I Yet I get the blame, cathect his rage Never even a tie Shook from the tension, brought to stutter Feared his rage The torment was utter He became my cage Tired of waiting for a whipping Poked sticks into his cage Too exhausting waiting for his choosing Getting it over became sage Could I survive to tell the tale Come that fateful day...? Larger and desperate, thirteen and hale Someone was about to pay Pitched battle inevitably came Grabbed a knife in the frenzy of it all Held my ground even when I couldn't aim Back pressed to the kitchen wall He veers away just as fate is to disclose Whose eyes will forever close Surviving one's father A coming of rage |