The climate

That’s never about the rain

Wind or dusty storms

You see, since money became king

And servants do services

high up in a house of glass

Build with gold dug by African infants

Earth was not born of bones

Thought and thrones

Earth is a stone, the sole abode

for anything born to it

So, laws and rules that apply to me

Yet not to you, are not of nature

But just of spite, a malignant brain

It’s never about the rain

Hail or El Niño, it’s the brain

The corporate monster with deep pockets

taking from the Congo and the Amazon

Until Amazon morphed from trees to trillions

We now have such names as trillionaires

Whilst the real Amazonians drown

Or burn, let’s burn them!

Says the executive after the Valdez spilled

They’ll never deign an apology

or descent from their lofty seats

to look at the sea and hear wailing seals

Otters clawing their eyes out

Stung by the the sludge,

Never again to breathe

Yet, they will another DeepWater Horizon

Greed has a color and a home

deeper than the oceans floor

It built empires and destroyed its offsprings

It’s never about the rain

Thunder or bolts of lightning

It’s lightening. Cropping of Vanessa Nakate

What does a Ugandan girl

know about climate change?

It’s never about the surface

It’s about the nadirs, so long in shadows

We see it them now, revealed by time

so bare a caricature, we must all desist

feeding it the fear, a blood stream

it needs for it to exist