A Prison Tree.

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water'd it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld its shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had viel'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.

- William Blake

Many times in my moments of weakness I have taken refugee in Blake's writings and it never disappointed me. Today I am down for a weird reason. I am sad for confronting my feelings and emotions. Not of hate, of course, but of love. I am afraid I did a forbidden thing to do, something that I shouldn't have done.

After reading Blake I realized, natural impulse, even if anger or love, should never be thwarted or it will promote destruction. I have met people who have kept hidden in their hearts their feelings of love and affection and it has become their life-long regret. They end up spending the rest of their lives thinking about, "what might have been". A life like that would have been excruciating! Most of English poetry is done on words not told and acts not committed.

I am glad I acknowledged my feelings. There is a certain peace and relief rather than an element of guilt and shame in owning with your heart feels. If we appreciate our thought process and do not repress it, we save ourselves and others from a lot of turmoil. Growth in suppressed emotions poisons a relationship.

Shazia.