Sunlight Reflecting on Our Surface

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With so many rocks overturned, walls broken within our spirits

we fight for the rain, to bring back our rivers

for heaven to descend,

cleansing our flags,

and hopefully restore

our shattered pieces

or at least have some sunlight

reflecting on our surface

diffusing into the blue

So we create a new flow don’t we?

a deeper journey,

worth keeping

within our hearts

as we become the wholeness

we have prayed for.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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Praying for Thunder

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In the scorching of our most difficult desert, it is so easy to carry our wounds

and walk away. To leave any fragment of who we are,

whatever gift we once were, and declare that sand

and bones are the only meaning.

Somehow, in our rocks hidden, we decide

to ignore the cycle of living,

believing we are safe.

So where is the rain?

The promise

of flowers living

beyond

our devastation?

    

Perhaps,

we learn to see our spirits

as more than a mirror,

understanding

for the first time

the plight of cactus,

as we lift our eyes

praying for thunder.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

It is the Light

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Memories of our most sacred moments will often find their way,

drifting,

into our hearts

with our void seeking,

as if sunlight sparkles

on the surface of the ocean,

filtering

through the deep.

I wonder

if we are more than waves

rolling towards the shore,

curling

into a magnificent spirit,

crashing

then washing the Earth.

It is the light isn’t it?

That moves us beyond

the pain,

into the new hope shifting

taking shape

within us.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

The 4th of July

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We are a nation of immigrants founded by immigrants

and we signed the papers on the 4th of July

didn’t we? And now may we repent,

as a nation, of our prejudice

of our hatred

for “the other”

as the blood speaks

and children cry

may we turn away from our sins

as we celebrate freedom

may we embrace

the color of our brother

our sister

the diversity,

their precious gifts

we have always

been given.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies