There is a place with scorched molten earth <br />near some hillocks <br />where blue lightning lashes repeatedly <br />and there it knocks <br />anything that it can find with its fire, <br />where some big rocks <br />draws it somehow on that much higher ground, <br />that is cleared from anything around. <br /> <br />The sky was ominous grey and brooding, <br />intensely black <br />while static or maybe fear made hairs rise, <br />we did turn back <br />while some rain, bird egg size hail drilled down; <br />under attack <br />of great blue-white thunder that was falling <br />with a mighty whipping roaring blue sting. <br /> <br />Just in time we reached some safe cover, <br />we were drenched <br />while bolts of blue thunder fell threatening, <br />in fear clenched <br />were the fingers of both her tiny hands, <br />as if wrenched <br />the muscles of her arms moved in pain <br />while thunder lashed again and again. <br /> <br />Blue-white blazing light fell on closed lids; <br />her inner eye <br />remembered decimating scorching <br />from some times by, <br />when medical staff unleashed a bolt <br />let fury fly, <br />torching some synapses of her own mind, <br />experimenting they acted unkind.<br /><br />Gert Strydom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thunder-touched-cavatina-sequence/
