My rage is a teacher
She is a temple
My rage never sets
Until she offers up her wisdom

My rage gives form
To my ragged past
And forms a bounded self of rage,
Her remembrances fire 
Upon fire
Upon fire,

I am wise for I have rage
As a counselor
Who hears my lukewarm tellings
And bids me not forget 

Does not rage call,
Does not anger raise her voice?
“No one has the right
To hurt us or to torture us”