If grief is like a slough,

then anger is a pair of boots that help you walk though it.

because you can’t ignore it.

You can’t walk around it.

You must walk though it.

And, when Carol Comeau said, “Ben Hardwick has his supporters.”

and Mike says, “Hitler had his supporters, too”

And when Jan Christensen said, “The bar is not high enough to fire him.”

and I said, “My children are not a high enough bar–what will it take?”

So who determines what to grieve?

Trust gone?  Betrayal?  Being told, just told anything

to fill the space that truth will invade if left empty?

Permeate the air with new energy, only to find the same black spirit

pervasive, with no change.

To grieve anew, when lied to, used and with choices denied.

Who should take it upon himself to withhold?  Is that how he would want to be treated?  Or was it the easy way, the learned way, repetition numbing responsibility or ability to reach out.

Playing games on planes of the Universe.

Slapping aside any who say they want to play.

Paid players winning with fouls, refs bought to say the play.

and the commissioner says, go forward, apply constant pressure

But don’t get mad.

I think it is really–don’t let people see you get mad.

Mad, anger, motivation, to apply persistence.

Who could do it day in and day out

in the middle of a Happy Dance?

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