couples – Rivers Renewed

The Survivors III – New Name

From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 years from now.

It was one of those warm summer days where the refreshing creek soothed every part of them. They sat together just listening. Even baby Jay seemed calmed by the sounds of the water, and the smell of the it in the air. It had been 10 days since her daughter was born, and Brie was still amazed by this wonder of new life. Jay was strapped on the front of her.

He was quiet and his face was reflecting the sunlight dancing on the water. A fish jumped. He was convinced that fish would someday soon be dinner. There was no war anymore, and death seemed distant in this peace. A mother deer and her fawn approached the creek, on the other side, and upwind from where they were sitting. They both watched while baby Jay slept quietly.

“I hate hunting.” It was Brie breaking the silence in a whisper. “I only hunt in order to survive.” He silently nodded his head with understanding. And that was one thing she liked about him, he never really said much but he understood her. There was always that silent, gentle strength too.

“And we need to find you a new name.” She said in her normal voice having already scared the mother deer and fawn away. “What’s wrong with my name?” She looked at him with that “you should know this” look and said, “You know how I feel about missionaries…..how they treated my people.” There it was again, the silent head nod of understanding. “I get it” he said.

Baby Jay stirred and Brie figured it was almost time for a feeding. Brie shifted, deciding she knew the name…. “Grey Wolf…..that’s what we should call you!” “What?? I was nearly killed by wolves!” “Yes, but grey is my favorite color….and to be honest it suits you.” Suddenly Brie began a sly smile, “And besides, your name will remind you…. that I saved your life.”

H’mm, he liked that a lot, and he told her so.

The Survivors II – Bluejay

From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 years from now

Wolves howling in the middle of the night could be heard through the thick walls of earth, wood and more earth. The smell of lavender smoke permeated the air of the lodge now, attempting to overtake the odors of blood and sweat. He never knew a woman could sweat like that.

It had been a horrible night of pain, and yet baby Jay was here now, Bluejay was her full name. “That’s beautiful…” he whispered, when Brie had told him. He had never seen Brie with a more contented, peaceful look on her face holding her daughter, wrapped up and warm. Brie was a tough woman, but he liked this softer side of her.

He had been right there through it all, and was beginning to clean up. She protested, “I’m so sorry….I’m too weak to…. He told her to rest. “I got this.” And he meant it. She took hold of his arm saying, “You did good tonight, thank you….” He simply nodded.

In the morning he went out to dedicate the afterbirth as instructed. It was Brie’s tradition, a tradition of her people, to thank the earth. He walked outside noticing the dew in the air. Picking a strong looking aspen tree, he mumbled what he thought may have been a prayer he heard once, a long time ago.

He stopped. What was a prayer anyway? Something was in his heart, so he just poured that out instead, silently. At the end he crossed himself, it was all he knew really.

The wind took hold of his hair, and a sense of peace enveloped him. He thought the hills seemed more alive today. Did he dare allow himself to feel joy? He took a deep breath and let go. Brie was right…..everything would be healed eventually, and the animals would return.

Suddenly, a smile of conformation began to spread over his face, when he saw a herd of elk not far away….

Note: This is a special Thursday post due to your requests! So cool.

Wildness

There was a certain wildness in her hair, yet she really loved the gentleness of his strength. They met that first day on the same trail from the opposite directions, with diverging angles. He noticed her boots, they were much better than his, and she noticed the brightness of his smile. He said as they got closer, “No masks!”.

She chuckled and they talked for a while, sitting on some logs. They talked some more, and then some more, and they did what many young lovers do, even on their first date…..

they had lunch.

Crackers and cheese, with apples, and bottled water. They did finish that trail, and many more after that, yet together. The last I heard she still does not have control of her hair…..and to be honest…..that’s just fine with him.

Beautiful Arrangement

Never, not ever was there a more beautiful arrangement of hair, as she seemed to glide down the aisle. And I know it’s old fashioned,

but my heart pounded over her wearing a veil. I’ll never forget, peeling it away as we drew close, to kiss, our first kiss, as husband and wife.

It really doesn’t seem so long ago.

Beyond the Horizon

As the sun sank lower, beyond the horizon,

they watched shadows slowly envelop

each of the boats. Instinctively,

she slipped her hand

into his.

Breathless.

Breaking Open the Sky

This gift she has, this way of looking forward with her wingspan extended, breaking open the sky so that healing can surge…..and yet there are times where we both need the mountains, some time for walking

and restoration, or talking or even just silently watching new rivers take shape. Fortunately fragments in her wings don’t take long to remove, but make no mistake, I’m not the eagle here.

As the wind in our wings lifts both of us, I guess it’s true about couples. We heal each other, and always have.

I know I wouldn’t have it any other way. Amen.

Poet’s Muse

Shape shifting into that wolf he used to be, or even the lion made of fire and stone, produced nothing more than comical lyrics and dreams of hunting with dull knives instead of that line, that phrase he had called forth, the one on the tip of his tongue, he could almost taste it….

he refused the temptation to allow despair to take him down, to allow the lancing of his pain, the calling out of anguish using poetry as way of defeating. No.

His muse must live…..but he refused to share her nakedness, her bare soul, the broken body from chemo and cancer, the legs he adored now whittled down, he would not go there, if he did he would not live there. Crushed.

God spoke and he listened. The warm embrace of nature began with a soft sun…..melting the ice. And rain, one of those beautiful life giving rains. His arm. A pen on paper.

And life began again, somehow. Spring.

Note: This is fiction. My wife is taking chemo but we are ok.

Winter Valentine

Ambivalent to ice outside encasing the winter beauty,

we awaken

staring into each other’s faces,

hands reach, gentling caressing hair

and a smile begins spreading

from her face to mine,

then a twinkle

it is after all,

Valentine’s Day.

The Sky Began Breaking

The sky began breaking as a few persistent snowflakes descended mixed with rain. I carved another arrow, while My Love shifted slightly in her buckskin, placing more wood on the fire crackling.

The horses next to our lodge, snorted their steam, anxious to return to the valley. I knew it would not be long until our band of brothers tracked our food in the snow. Then bows pulled in breathless silence….

I woke up with a start, sitting up realizing it was all just a dream……with the one I love breathing quietly next to me. A picture of beauty and peace.

Yet I could have sworn I heard……the thunder of hoofbeats in the distance…..

Note: This is fiction, and poetry.

Wingspan

The wingspan of our poetry extended

will move us far beyond the fear

we used to know,

with the warrior’s steel

of peace strengthened,

and the quietness of spirit lifting,

we know now,

truly

who we are.

Strength lifted.

Category: couples