Not All Warriors Are Healed

Not all warriors are healed, having walked through the fire,

not all of them. It is in our spirits though where victory

is won. Only the brave can declare their freedom.

   

I found this post almost impossible to write. I should have written it days ago, but I did not have the words, and did not know even what my emotions were, and I still don’t. I am numb.

You see my wife has cancer again, the same one she had years ago. And this cancer has no cure. A bone marrow transplant helped her to live a lot longer than most people with this disease, and longer than doctors thought she would. She has a blood cancer, and a very tough one.

Yes, thank God she is still here on this earth. But she will have to be on chemo again, and then another, then another, until there are no more options. Right now, she is fighting some infections before she can even begin chemo.

I am right by her side. We have always been a team that cannot be broken, and we will continue to fight together. Is there any other way besides love? No, there isn’t.

We appreciate each of you, and we wish you peace.

     

Poetry, Narrative and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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They Still Remember

The two of them still remember their first embrace, the smell of her hair

the strength of his shoulders, the softness of her hands

in his, he drew her closer as she enveloped him

pink petals floating, swirling around

their heads, landing so beautifully

so gently, barely touching

as they gave each other

their greatest gifts

their hearts,

underneath the cherry trees.

Yes, they still remember.

      

Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

To Hold Her Hand Again

It was when he reached for her hand that her blushing began,

and he was never afraid, he never

pulled back,

from her shaking spirit

instead

embracing her until

the waves of fear passed away.

She surrendered

to his courage,

but they both surrendered really.

He never regretted his dedication

to her, instead he lived for her smile,

and for the chance

to hold her hand again.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

It Was Spring Now

She walked in the green fields now remembering the curves

of her hand in his, and those times he gave her

a wildflower to tuck

behind her ear,

with the smell of trees

and the beautiful deluge

of robin song,

it was spring now

and she dreamt

of smelling his neck

and the protection

of his umbrella

as they discovered the earth

all over again,

walking in the park.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

I Danced in Her Waves

In my wildness I danced in her waves,

caught

in her smile, set free in her tide

washed

again and again

she banished

any brokenness remaining.

     

Poetry © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

image from wallpaper images via google

The Quiet Moments of Winter III

In the moonlight through our window, we hold each other closer

breathing in her hair, I can see the outline of trees covered

again. She whispers in the night, “I’ve always wanted

to be held by you…..” I drift off dreaming

of the wind carrying us away.

Is love softer in the winter snow?

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

He Knew He Was Her Storm

Having seen his own ice melting, the frozen within,

he knew he was her storm, with both peace

and yet carrying a raging blizzard.

She loved him, that much was certain,

and her fire kept him sane,

showed him how to pray really,

and one day as the snow fell

he knelt on the rock, and prayed

he would always be worthy

of her honor.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies