So Many Words Spoken Over Us

So many words spoken over us, at times unseen

as if they gently rested

on our shoulders, whispering

into our spirits, both

hawks and doves,

so that in our peace we can

pull down every particle of grey

and black smoke

drifting,

creeping in from our ruined history.

Until finally

there is enough glory

to write a poem,

pulled down

from the sky.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies