fist raised, curled; drawn back
in frustration because i don’t understand.
but i do.
go, but not far,
run, but not fast,
grow, but not soon.
holding your arm, inches from my face,
i can feel that tension building and straining.
and the power is surprising.
it’s easier to swing than to explain,
and i can see the words slip from your grasp
as your arm slips from mine.
but, for now, brute force is on my side:
you must, you will,
and all you can do is rage.
this won’t work forever.
and you have a lot to learn
before learning that.