poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
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
There was some prayer within his deliverance,
as witnessed by the hawk,
but it was mostly the river
bending
drifting
into his spirit,
beyond the oak trees
and dogwoods.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
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
Within the soft movement of leaves
a poem stirred within me,
and still
I knew the healing
held my breath in wonder
as if this moment
was all new
had just been discovered,
and the light
filled me
once again.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
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
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
Within the power of our oceans, in the depths
of our unlimited
lives the source of strength
we have sensed, deep
within our hearts
quietly residing
waiting for us
simply
to surrender our pain
and embrace our healing,
the peace
we were always
meant to have.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
