The face of anger

The following poem is a metaphor describing something I saw when I was looking into some depths of my inner self.

I have always been afraid about some darkness I felt in myself, worried if perhaps something bad had happened that I had pushed away and forgotten. One day, I decided to pray about this, asking Jesus to be present1 when I looked into that darkness. This was a very deep and emotional moment, when it seemed as if I saw a bloody dark bundle. In the afternoon that followed, I took little steps in discovering what that was. I wrote a verse of this poem for each step.

It is not the most beautiful poem, the language isn’t polished. But it does describe accurately the series of emotions I went through, that afternoon. At first I realized that I had found something very valuable: my own inner life. I felt sorry for it, and carefully approached it. It had been buried under too much oppression, and I blamed (in verse 3) the ministers of my church2 for that. But later (in verse 6) my inner child directly accuses me of keeping it down. And then I realized that I should not have been so obedient. It is my own responsibility to care for my own soul.

The face of anger

My formless child
Covered in blood
Buried in darkness
How sad is your lot

The powers that hid you
Did frighten me so
I never looked into
Where you did go

These black empty horrors
Are full of pretense
“We just want to guide you
We meant no offense”

I’m scared to behold
This darkness of yours
What will you do
When I let you come close

My darling, my baby
How frightful your sight
Still I will hold you
In my arms you’re light

The child speaks, “Mama
I hate you, you kept me down
I will run to Jesus
Who gives me my crown”

Child I acknowledge
Your hatred is just
Trembling I hope to
Regain your trust


  1. As I’ve also described in Warmth of Friendliness
  2. See also Ramblings of a Pharisee