THINGS THAT BURN

Thunder struck 

as the half 

human half

children cried out.

 

The rain searched

for someone to soak in its gentle wrath 

but none surrendered,

Where will the water run in their wake.

 

The pigs whispered down

from their high towers 

to the dissidents and infidels 

about the dangers of bacon.

 

You told me peace falls slowly 

like the snow, 

How much cold 

before we know its name,

how tall will it 

grow,

How much 

more

must fall,  

Until we no longer breathe.