The Clouds Are Heavy. The clouds are heavy with a leaden weight, While justice lingers at a rusted gate. The Charter speaks of rights and golden bread, Yet hunger weaves a different kind of thread. The President, in halls of marble white, Does he not feel the chill of coming night? The rain descends in sheets of biting cold

The Clouds Are Heavy

 The clouds are heavy with a leaden weight,

While justice lingers at a rusted gate.

The Charter speaks of rights and golden bread,

Yet hunger weaves a different kind of thread.

The President, in halls of marble white,

Does he not feel the chill of coming night?

The rain descends in sheets of biting cold,

Upon a story that is far too old.

The ogre smiles behind a locked steel door,

While those he robbed are sleeping on the floor.

His anger was a fire that burned the nest,

Leaving the innocent without a rest.

The coins were meant for shoes and warm attire,

Not to be fuel for one man’s selfish ire.

A martyr’s crown is heavy on a child,

When all they seek is mercy, soft and mild.

The sirens wailed and wrote their reports down,

The echoes faded through the silent town.

The national authorities have the plea,

Locked in a file for all the world to see.

But paper does not block the falling rain,

Nor does a signature erase the pain.

They promised that the funds would soon arrive,

To keep the flicker of a hope alive.

The message traveled through the wires of light,

To challenge every wrong and set it right.

The father’s greed was measured by the law,

A jagged tooth within a broken saw.

He claims the purse to save his fading breath,

While dancing on the very edge of death.

But equity demands a different hand,

To heal the children of this weary land.

So we remain beneath the weeping sky,

And ask the heavy clouds the reason why.

The Charter is a shield, or so they say,

To keep the hungry wolves of want at bay.

Let not the ink be dry before the deed,

To plant the harvest from the stolen seed.

The President must hear the children’s cry,

Before the rain runs every fountain dry.