The Toll

By Andrew R. Duckworth

Photo and editing by Andrew R. Duckworth
What am I to say to the lion and lamb?
That anger breathed fire within my chest?
That a lake of rage consumed all that I am?
That ceaseless thoughts deprived me of rest?

The cup was full so I drank it dry,
Every last drop of bitter consumed.
Anger knocked down the door to my mind,
Swept in as the dragon fumed.

What excuse will I have for the Mighty One
Who takes account of my every move
And watches until the day is done
And of my deeds does not approve?

How will I end anger’s ghastly reign?
How can I remove the strangling grip
That causes only ravaging pain
And seeks for all my soul to rip?

The cup of life seems out of reach
And I wish I could extend my arm
But anger clenched on like a leach,
Sucking dry my joy and causing harm.

Should the Great One hear my cry
I pray that He should heal my soul
And save me from the Devil’s eye
That seeks to take the greatest toll.

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