Between Wrath and Grace

A mental battle between a state of calmness and chaos

A season of wrath and grace simmered inside of me, and trying to keep a calm composure on the outside tugged at my sanity. I felt like I was holding the leash of two beasts of different identities, born from different essences. One strived for chaos, hate, and rage, while the other fought so gently to calm the storms, brewing peace on the tender notes of my ruins.

I was holding the world by its unraveling seams, while thoughts of all shades clashed with one another, and emotions churned like the waves of an angry sea. I stood in the middle of a war I couldn’t partake in, nor choose a side, for choosing meant condemning the other. And if I stayed on the frontiers of both, I held their rights to expression.

But I was livid, shaking in this maelstrom. Martyrdom wasn’t a choice. It snatched my innocence and dropped my body in the cold dirt of the battlefield.

Hate coiled its tendrils of evil on my thrashing hope. For a time, its warmth almost felt comforting. At least then I was held, even if loathing evaporated my claim to light.

Viciousness reigned and tormented my quiet image, but serenity never took my silence for surrender. Passion ignited my ashes to life, bringing back my affections to the forefront of the frost to revive my numb heart. I can’t forget how I almost died by my own hostile hands.

I looked at the carnage, wishing for a moment of respite in this animosity. Musings of past versions of me carved a clear picture for my ghosts. Words died on my bloodied fingers, and the once-healer’s rituals mocked my fall.

In the distance, something rumbled, pulling me back to focus. Outside the fog of war, I could smell reveries of my nights coming to rescue me. Tranquility descended, the sky cleared, and the sun peeked through its clouds. It was a moment of grace for my wounded soul, a gentle feeling by the name of apricity, vindicating my furious temper in this fight of tangled reflections.

I might have been guilty of tarnishing my blank canvases, but at least I sprayed whatever reasoning held me hostage. And now it was time to settle the dust. Serenity could claim me; it drew me to her side when chaos roared at the prospect of its condemnation.

Mending hostilities, my hands turned light and healing, pumping restoration into the ruins of my inner world. Light poured from every crevice of my once rotten body, bringing warmth and calmness. Solace felt like mercy on my tongue.

Finding balance between two raging sides of the same creature, I let judgment leave with its illusions, and I finally shook the hands of two extremities, restoring peace and giving rest to the turmoil.

Maybe the battle would never end, but it was choosing to give grace when torment was quick to catch. Hope spread to the ugliest parts of me to ensure a calm interior that can rival the everlasting calmness of dawn.

– Written by Una Rouquine “ The Poet Intermezzo”

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As requested by my sweet mika

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Thank you for reading! Linger a little bit more and tell me your thoughts💌

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