Rage and tenderness are located so close to each other.

Often they are walled off, each in their own isolation chamber.

In time the barriers between become less formidable,

the rage and the tenderness find solace in each other.

 

 

 

“For some years I saw a young man in analysis. Robert was in such a dark and impenetrable state of distress when first we met that I feared for some time that he might not survive. Our connection was intense yet, filled with moments of cruel rage,loving tenderness and, as he once said, “everything in between”.

J.Mitrani; A Framework for the Imaginary

 

“You’ve done so well,” she said smiling, “please don’t give in now.” He looked into her face, into her eyes, her mother’s eyes, and felt a slow wave-like spasm in the region of his diaphragm, and something heavy and warm welled up in him, as if he might be about to burst into tears. The feeling lasted no more than a second or two, but he recognized it. It was something that happened to him now and then at unexpected moments. Anything could provoke it, a soft word spoken kindly, a sudden poignant memory, a woman’s voice heard from another room, or just the look of things, a splashy sunset, a view on a winter morning of some known place transfigured in a mist, a gleam of April light on a rained -on road –anything. It was if, deep inside him, deep beyond his knowing, there was a still bottomless pool of longing, of sorrow, of tenderness, out of which on these occasions these rose up, unbidden, a bright and irresistible splash, rose, and fell back again, back into those secret and forever hidden depths.”

B.Black; Even The Dead