Hate is a strong word. It wields an ugly power I don’t care to tap into, but right now I hate bipolar. I effing hate it. I hate what it does to my beautiful son. I hate what it does when it rears it’s ugly head and cycles through our home like an unyielding tornado, leaving destruction in its wake.

Tornadoes appear and disappear so quickly, there’s no time to prepare, to take shelter. No time to shield yourself, and then they are gone as quickly as they came.

They never even look back at the damage they’ve done . . . they just move on.

I hate bipolar.

Rage lashes

unexpected

unprovoked

gnashing teeth

claws extended

striking blindly

Distorted thought

unbridled emotion

strike

    strike

         strike

and then . . .

Silence.

Breathe.

It curls up

in the debris

Purring, it sleeps

cradled

in your arms