The Wind Coming Down from the Mountains

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As the winter storm roared through the trees, thunder rumbled rolling

through the valley, having been sent down the side of the mountain,

and I realized our spirits are so fragile, we often sense

the loneliness of the wind, with snowflakes swirling,

and yet inside our cocoons, we acknowledge the safety

and that God was never angry, even though

He probably does live in the wind

coming down

from the mountains.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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Calling Me to the Silence

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I was seventeen when I first started wandering,

walking in the woods my spirit

calling me to the silence

a journey discovering

the peace within,

and yes

it was snowing then.

Beginnings.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Angels Know

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The angels know that slavery comes from the hearts evil men, not really from our southern border, and that drugs are shipped sneaking through our ports of entry, stamped with approval.

I wonder if heaven weeps over the poor….needing jobs, needing some food….needing to escape violence….

I sure hope so.

“El Paso has been one of the safest cities for the past 20 years.”

Beto O’Rourke, resident of Texas

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Earth Would Bring Healing

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She squinted through the snowfall, her determination burning once again, in spite of the howling wind.

She had followed the wings of the hawk, and now….was that a cave? They had been led here for sure….”C’mon my love!” she yelled to him, who struggled with each step.

He had saved her so many times, now it was her turn. They knew this was not the time for dying.

Once they collapsed inside the cave, they found it warm and safe. They had survived the ruination, the last of all wars, led by the spirit hawk, surely it was a sign.

The Earth would bring healing. There would be a spring, and hope…..was about to be born.

From the Apocalyptic Journal.

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

He Was Canyons of Rivers Raging

apache-dancer-harley-upton-jr-diego-james-robles-from-indiancountrytodaymedianetworkIn the dance for his people, feet pounding twirling, left shoulder down, feathers jerking, he was the heartbeat of the earth,

head tilted to the left then the right, leaning in, spinning with blurred vision

he became red rocks, he became canyons of rivers raging, with ancient memories,

with power in his feathers, he remembered when they protected

the women and children, from dog faced soldiers hiding spears,

until the sun broke through the great trouble.

He was more than the dance,

he had blended

with the spirit of his people.

     

Poetry © Copyright 2019, ancient skies, image  of Apache dancer from indiancountrytodaymedianetwork