Riot Sky

Thunder is clapping

High above the ocean of bodies dressed head to toe in black

Thunder is clapping

With salt and vinegar pouring from the clouds

“Salt their wounds,” she says.

“Soothe your skin,” She says.

Thunder is clapping

Her pride and rage colliding in bolts that flash along the sky.

She rolls deep and heavy at the crowd below, roaring to cast a fearful quiver in the hearts of glossy boots

Thunder is clapping

A burst so loud she is heard miles away.

Her crash of nature chanting alongside the voices of her most beloved creatures

Thunder is clapping

Her sister sobs to our rhythm, pouring her sorrow over all battle clad children marching against grown warmongers

A Blackened sky is screaming, “WHY” as the children’s pleas for life are denied

Thunder is clapping

She watches the children in black with pride

Softening to a purr when the children can sleep

Gnashing at the beasts in their armored van of weaponry

Thunder is clapping

Her sister weeps in devastating torrents, washing away of bursts of foul green and yellow powder

Vicious poison attempting to replicate her soft and loving home and creator

Thunder is clapping

Wildly ferocious howling carries her brothers pain across the tumultuous waves beneath

He rushes every wisp of poison back towards the soldiered hogs

His fearsome gusts pushing against them leaving the children with naught but a gentle touch

Thunder is clapping

She pounds over the amplified demands of the illegitimate dictators of “order”

Purring steadily beneath the cries of justice punctuated by her sisters gentle tears,

now carried through the air on determined whistling of brothers softened howl

As the storm waxed heavy and waned in our plight

Joined by her siblings in the dead of night

Thunder clapped for us.