Whether Weather
Candles like the kind my grandma would light in a storm
We all huddled round clinging to the cross of Jesus Himself
No talking no laughing no playing no heavy breathing
Gods wrath may turn on you
Rain that cascades down heavily bullying our rooftop
Splatter of droplets joining their company at the puddle
All is quiet except thunder
Booming loudly likes it sees our sins
Flowers crushed under the pressure of winds foot
No power just a candle like my grandma would light
Everybody's scared 'cept for me
I admire proudly the dominance of the storm
In awe of how tranquil it can make people
Even humbly a fool wouldn't protest
My mouth open wide
Trying to taste the air
catching the spray of water from the sky
Old people say God is crying but whoever said we know what he feels
Others say the devils beating his wife but how can evil chastise evil
All I ever knew was that every element will have a chance to be noticed
Drawing our attention from recitals, cook-outs
To just stand and watch
Candles that burn like the kind my grandma had
Copyright © Shane Solomon | Year Posted 2013
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