Hate begets hate and my capacity is
overflowing its once contained tide pool,
spilling over with every coming wave of unbridled rage.
How I’ve tried to justify the force behind
the lashing of the salt spray.
to say that there is a purpose behind it
other than runaway vengeance.
The tree stands upon the shore
Waging battles unfamiliar to the ocean
yet I urge the sea to over take it.
To wear away the land,
separate firmly anchored roots from dirt
and expose the pulsating system below.
I open my ears wide, tune out the crashing surf,
and listen for the cracking that starts at the base and
travels quickly upwards.
With my luck no one mourns the toppling.
Rachael Gay is a poet, artist, living in Fargo, North Dakota. Her work has appeared in felan, Eunoia Review, Daily Gramma, errata Magazine, Literary Orphans and The Bookends Review. More of her work and her favorite pieces can be found at witchinghourpoetry.tumblr.com.