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.