Mustangs

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Our poems will wait to speak to us, as we hide ourselves away

confident, in luxury condominiums setting up our safety.

But in our living through the storm,

up on the ridge, with our breath taking us

into the wildness of words, where mustangs

fill our minds, and pine trees

are tossed by the wind,

with blizzards that shake loose

our hesitation

blowing through

the fragments

of our hearts,

we become confident

of our survival,

in a place where

our pens run free

and the poetry paints

the wildness

of our spirits.

       

I will be posting here once in a while. Thank you for reading!

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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Leadership of Hope II

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“I will never forget that the only reason I’m standing here today is because somebody, somewhere stood up when it was risky. Stood up when it was hard. Stood up when it wasn’t popular. And because that somebody stood, a few more stood up. And then a few thousand stood up. And then a few million stood up. And standing up, with courage and clear purpose, they somehow managed to change the world.”

President Barak Obama

       

Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

Our Prayers from their Wings

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Even the hawks know, as they launch our prayers from their wings,

rivers run deep, in the lowest valleys,

running faster, and more beautiful

than ever before. And still waters

run a deeper quiet, bringing us

closer, awakening our spirits

to seek the river, and a hawk

to lift our prayers

from the earth to the sky.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies