The wrath
was a storm of earth
smashing all before it
elementally unquestionable
leaving nothing
but terror
and submission.
The peace of a meadow
gone by landmine.
No warning.

Surprise! Surprise!
Like a pinprick
to a river of blood,
Like a salt drop
to a tsunami,
a scale unguessable;
the transformation
of stepped-upon trusted earth
into quicksand-uncertainty.
The ground
has swallowed me up.
I drown.

I drown in the earth
I choke on the dirt
I shudder silently
but outside resemble a stone;

Only from a safe distance
can an objective
that the fault
was a crack in his soul
and not my folly at all
save the misfortune
of stepping on a mine.

But it is safer to be guilty.
The hurt turned inwards
saves the rest of the world
from pain.
False guilt is more kindly
to a caring soul
than false blame.

Thus do we choose our folly;
explosion or
self-inflicted coals.
Either way we die of burning,
a little at a time.

-- Kathryn A