Burn Like Karma Leaving

This anger, a raging fire in my heart,
has risen up in defiance of the sting of suffering.
There is no cool water
or lush green in this place.
No soft pillow
on which to rest
my weariness.

I am inconsolable
as a child without her mother.

I want to lash out
and turn the venom
of my mind's enemies
into mist, smoke, sweat,

the ghost of another soul,

and let this violence, like karma,
leave me as all dream does. . .
a wisp of the poison
I serve myself
after feasting
on another dance
that leaves
my feet bleeding;
my lessons learned
too late.