Sister Rage

I have a friend.
My friend is lovely, graceful, amusing,
and one of the most intelligent people I have ever met
(and I have met some very intelligent people).

My friend has a sister.
A sister that she has frequently not seen eye to eye on.
A sister that she spent most of her childhood
and adolescence squabbling with.

A sister who is pregnant.

A sister that she loves very, very much.

This sister has a husband.
A husband who knocked her down,
dragged her through their house,
threw her against a door jam,
sat on her,
and called her a nigger loving cunt.

My friend is in a Sister Rage.
The earth shakes with her anger
at what this sick man has done to her family,
to the child,
to her sister.

My friend prays for him.
She prays that he will get help,
she prays that he will learn the extent of his illness.

My friend is incredible.

I have a sister,
and if I had Sister Rage,
I would make the man bloody and broken.
I would gladly go to jail for it.
My Sister Rage would tear a hole in the world.

My friend's Sister Rage is fixing a hole.
She's putting her Rage into prayer.
She's using the energy that I would use to break fingers,
and praying prayers that burn a lovely, graceful fire.

My friend is so utterly admirable.

God, help my heart to be that strong,
and please don't ever let me know that Rage.

------

My Friend


My Sister