Oceans will hold our prayers, as we walk along the shore
breathing in the peace of rolling waves, washing us.
And forests will hold us, safely
in our weakest moments,
until we have reached the top
of the mountain,
fully aware
and confident,
having walked
with the sacred,
that yes, we can trust,
the Divine
with our future,
as we lift
our hearts to the sky.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Don’t bury your pen just yet my brother, my sister
the journey of your light has just begun
and there are still songs
that need to be written,
and still music
in your heart
from the mountains.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
“I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.”
Hafiz
Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
jewelry by unknown artist, presented at the Hillwood Estates Museum, Washington D.C.
quote by Hafiz
If the light of our spirits is in our eyes, what visions do we see
when we read our poems?
are there any feathers
is there any power
from our wings
lifting off
from our pages?
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
When our poetry is a river, our spirits will walk
with confidence, gathering hawks
on our shoulders, while dismantling
our fear, when it tries to scream
“flee like a bird to your mountain.”
Words have always
given us
strength.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
As she looked out the window half asleep, she understood why
he was getting dressed, and out the door so early
he was called with his camera
to capture the silence,
where the spirit is at rest
and the mind is in awe,
of the moment
and where God walks unseen
through the pine trees.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Poems have always sought the windows
of our souls, pulling us, through a clear glass
into the light
calling our minds, our pens
to fly high on the wings of a dove
then returning
from the endless horizon
where the sky meets
the ocean.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
I sense My Love stirring, as she reaches, pulling back the curtains
of a blue dawn, where the tree branches gently hold
the overnight snow.
She watches the doves, as I notice her face
her lips move, whispering
her prayers
I drift off, pushing away the fire
for now
but later I awaken
to the smell of turkey bacon
and her kiss
on my lips.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Through the smoke and ruins of our world, words
will call us born again, with our poems ascending,
our hearts will be lifted
proving to us once and for all –
there is still some beauty
and we are still alive, ready to accept
what we used to call hope
and the spark of the living
once again.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Give me a glimpse of Your wings My God, and I will do more
than take refuge under
Your shadow,
shaping the words descending
shaping the phrases piercing
through the clouds,
encouraging my brothers
my sisters
and together
we will paint the sky
with some healing
from Your wings.
Amen.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
