On Anger

Anger---sharp and cold like a knife--
Piercing everything; in its wake
Leaving a bloody mess of strife.

Dissention; discord; resentment
and wounded pride--
Festering; oozing; infecting the vital organs inside.

Would we say what we want
Or what we mean
If we could see the end result
Of such a devastating scene?

Or would we think twice; pray; guard
our words and bide our time?
Anger when it's cooled is foe--
No longer friend sublime.

May the morning find us praying,
And at evening, watching still;
Without anger; sowing patience;
Fearless; crying,  "Father, have THY will."
May the morning wake with beauty;
Peaceful words and loving touch
And pay we not the price of anger;
Its end costs far too much.