7 Deadly Sins of the Writing Life: WRATH

Deadly Monday dawned foggy, but warmed and cleared by the afternoon when I took S. out for a walk. He fell asleep right away, which was unusual since his torticollis makes him nauseous and uncomfortable when strolling. Then I  found an open bench in the hood, despite the park being closed since Hurricane Sandy ripped seven trees out of the ground and sent one into an apartment building. Today was peaceful. But reminders of Wrath popped up. They always do.

Of all the deadly sins, Wrath proved the hardest for me to explore. I used to be really, really angry. Not only at the person I highlight in my essay on Wrath, but at a range of circumstances that sucked memory and childhood happies out of me. I’m not angry anymore. I have many thoughts about Wrath, but airing them on the page without actually feeling Wrathful led to multiple false starts. Then I found it.

I’ve learned that once you feel Wrathful, even if you heal, you can always knock on that tender spot and bleed.