We were raised
as men
to be strong
the only acceptable emotion
anger. Joy, melancholy, fear
all off limits.
“Don’t cry son.”
“Oh he’s so tough.”
What if I don’t want to be?
What if I’m just a snail
a soft mollusk
who built a tough shell
to hide the vulnerability inside?
The same armor that protects
weighing me down
restricting my movement and growth.
When anger is all you’re allowed
it grows and grows
to contain multitudes.
The path channeled out
so deep
that no matter where you direct
the flooding emotion
it only has one path to follow.
Anger is so demonized
it is not seen as multifaceted
but a negative thing only.
Yet
it might hide longing
regret
and when you are so inundated with it
frustration, annoyance, aggravation
are all different levels
recognized by others as the same
“You’re mad.”
This feedback loop
the incorrect labeling of the box
we’re often placed in as men
generates the same result anyway.
When I see my boys cry
over the silliest things
and jump up and down
excitement scarcely contained
when they cuddle up to me
or they ask for a kiss, a hug
when they apologize for causing hurt
I see the tides a changin’.
Day by day
they’re refilling that deep, steep channel
cut out of me.
My shell in broken pieces on the ground.