The thunder of anger was always
present deep within his heart, tightly
controlled but on the verge of release,
a rumble in his bones.
The thunder of hate was a constant
roar in his soul, an inheritance
from generations past, coloring
his world with black and white.
There were moments, when his world was still,
that the storms would subside, allowing
him to listen to the sounds of peace,
love, justice and freedom.
This weeks prompt from Trifecta was to use ‘Thunder’, specifically the third definition. I also chose to use the same form as last week, which is 3 stanzas of 33 syllables each with lines of 9,9,9,6.