Parables

When he walked in the streets of ancient cities, I don’t think the Messiah, (some called him a prophet) tried to impress anyone with his theology or to yell louder to prove he was right.

He simply taught with stories, sometimes called parables….

or he gave examples, unique illustrations of the human heart and how we should be to each other. Here’s one of my favorites:

“Before you try to take out the speck in your brother’s eye…..you should take out the wooden plank that’s in your own eye.”

Ain’t that something?

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Emma Heals the Wolf

Her small gentle hand touched his shoulder, and she was surprised by the power of his blood, the thickness of his fur. He had finally found her and fought his way to Spain, enduring the attacks from creatures of the night.

She accepted his repentance on a level most could not comprehend. The lies were over. She could sense so much love now in his heart as her hand went further to his chest.

His wolf beauty nearly took her breath away as her light ignited, healing the wounds. Unconscious he barely knew she was there. Yet in his sleep he felt her presence.

Each wound, each particle of pain was taken. Exhausted when the restoration was done, Emma fell asleep on his massive chest, barely noticing he had shifted back to human.

She tucked in her wings, sighing in her sleep contented.

Barcelona had been very, very good to them.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Mending of Emma

Emma held the light of dawn within the palm of her hand. Turning it, this way and another she separated the ball into two, allowing it to infuse both her hands and down into her arms. She believed in God, but where was He when we were hurting?

She was more spirit now, than bones and skin, and yet she was hurting all over. The light continued its warmth through her and questions faded, while grey pain morphed into blue. A blue from the sky?

It was only beginning, this journey. The blood of Palermo would fade, and she realized she was being made new every morning. Wings began to thicken, becoming more than barely visible membranes. It was impossible to tell who she would be later this year.

She sighed looking out over the foothills, just north of Milan….searching, yet at peace.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

I Dream of Hope

In my dreams I don’t reach anymore for those ancient prophecies from desert winds. I dream of hope held gently on the wings of peace. A sky without violence.

You and I are a lot alike in that way. We each are rivers really. Yes, truth lives but does not scorn us in our stumbling.

And there is more to love than just saying it. Live it, and behold your reward.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Reader’s Guide

I offer a wide variety of work here, and I want you to enjoy what I write. So, I thought it would be useful to have a short guide to my blog and recent goings on. I love writing and I’m so glad you’re here!

Time Traveler/Emma

Emma started out as a shape-shifting time traveler but has been changing recently. She has wings now. She is definitely supernatural, but she is not an angel or evil. I’m currently formulating some more of the supernatural for her! At times, these standalone pieces of minifiction are a little dark or edgy and that’s ok. Her heart is healing but will she find love? And is that what she is really looking for?

A Trans Woman/Ally and Friends

Ally is trans and is developing some friendships while dealing with being mistreated and rejected. She’s also attempting to discover more of who she truly is. We watch her new friendships develop. Some of my readers don’t like these stories, but I can’t write for just one group of people. I write about what I think is important. In the future the titles will be called Ally and Friends. These are stories about fictitious yet real people and real problems, with a touch of romance.

Poetry

Yes, there is still poetry! I love writing about nature, healing, restoration of our spirits also called renewal. Thus, the title of my blog. And most of my work over the past several years has been poetry.

Additional Fiction

On this site there is a ton, and I mean a ton, of fiction material. There is Historical Fiction about Native Americans, Romance Fiction, and even some Science Fiction. I need to start deleting it to make some room!

Some of my personal favorites are about Native Americans. And I still love their names I invented including, Thunder Speaking, Cricket in the Meadow, Two Wolves, Skye, Bluebird and many others. Cricket in the Meadow was a Medicine Woman or Holy Woman.

You can find these and more by using the menu bar on the top right of my homepage.

Thank you so much for being here and reading!

Peace.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Late Summer Meditations II

One golden leaf translucent from the sun, nearly transparent, a thin remembrance of prior glories. Is it stuck in the tree avoiding the final fall, the fall of no return? Or is it only last years’ forgotten memories of brilliance?

The wind shifted and the leaf finally did fall. I couldn’t help lifting up a prayer for the ending of summer, and the beginning of autumn. Let us begin again.

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Learning How to Heal

To overcome the bullies in your life, those who ridicule your trauma…..first you need to survive,

in learning how to heal, holding onto who you are, believing in the unseen

and then moving forward, always forward.

You are always so much more than your circumstances.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 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.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

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….

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

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