Anger

My, I've been angry lately.
Easily ticked off.
Inclined to simmer and stew.
Cranky and snarly,
dark and brooding.
Snippy and childish.

Yee ha.

I've known for a while
that anger is one of the ways
I manifest grief.

It is what got me through
the time of my mother's
dying.

My emotional range
in those difficult months
was a thin layer of rage
over a deep pool of weeping.

I found I functioned better
mad.
Not to mention having
clearer sinuses.

So maybe part
of my recent emotional state
has been lingering grief
over the death of my grandmother.

But it manifests
in snippiness about paperwork at the office;
in simmering resentment about insults
to my being and character
left over from last year;
in fury over comments
and rude behavior in the present.

For the most part
I am writing angry and childish
e-mails
and deleting most of the nasty parts
before I send them.

I'm grinding my teeth
in the privacy of my own thoughts
and managing to be mostly civil
in person.

So while I haven't yet
made a total fool of myself,

I'm tired of being angry.
It wears me out.
It hurts my digestion.

And it makes me feel like

someone else.