Another fiery hot headache erupts inside your skull
turning pale cheeks crimson. Disappearing beneath
a thin, black blanket—you retreat into the cave’s deep
crisp darkness. I suppress bubbling anger’s hot breath
tight inside infinities compassionate heart; draining
like cups lining crowded cracked windowsill. Please,

be okay. Worry lines crease, carve my aging mom face—
chiseled rock tracing waters long cascading movements
through life’s echoey darkness. Foamy pools of cooling
relief sit waiting for moments to pass, for pacing eons
to eek by into light’s laughing return. Heart remembers
every nighttime outcry, each soothing back rub. Please,

be okay. Reaching through foggy depths flash flooded
with writhing madnesses ugly nightmares, your fingers
wind tight around blankets edge; my feather-soft motherly
kisses on soaked brows do nothing. Anger ripples dirty
clothes piled high igniting guilt’s powerful ringing rage
pounding ancient rocks into fine powdery dust. Please,

be okay. Fear transforms uneven tapering columns
into screeching monsters to slay. Drawing wet sword
angry words drip, drip, drip through silence too thick
for thinking. Screams soften by plunging heavy, headfirst
into icy water’s depth to see through stinging eyes past
adventures where love’s sweet patience held fast. Please,

be okay. Lashing, tearing with pain’s tired hoarse voice
blame begets blame until desperate razor-sharp rockslides
throw open windows repose letting sweet swirling wind
signal truce. Whispered kindness wipes at particles left
stinging, laughing off this dance, forgetting how darkness
clung everywhere at once—embracing love’s shining light.

My teenage son suffers from chronic migraines. While I strive to be loving, kind, and motherly at all times, anger bubbles forth when he’s down. It’s anger at the situation, but it becomes anger at everything. We fight when it’s over as if we can keep it from returning by scaring it away. I’m not proud of this pattern and this poem is my attempt at processing my feelings.