How difficult it is to play our parts

The thundercloud of anger  hangs down low
As if it were not human in its start
Exploding rage will bomb the crops  below

The trickle, when blocked off, will grow and grow
A  sulk  becomes  a threat, a ruinous art
The thundercloud of anger  hangs down low

When the feelings like young rivers flow;
When we do not feed  resentful hearts,
Exploding rage won’t harm the crops  below

If we don’t retaliate with blows
But hold the pain as if in counterpoint
The thundercloud of anger melts  and so it goes

In every heart, an hatred is disowned,
Or venom lodges in the nerves and joints
Calm the rage, don’t harm the crops  below

How difficult it is to  play our parts
Without the rage destroying lovers’ hearts
The thundercloud of anger  shrinks to show
Our firm desire to save the crops below?

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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