Vulnerable

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Some women don’t allow themselves to be vulnerable anymore,

preferring

to protect themselves

from being wounded again.

Preferring

to build their own light,

to pull down stars

to shape the sun

and begin again.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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The Day When Thunder Was Born

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Back in the day when thunder was born and lightning let go of the shaking,

we did run with the wolves shoulder to shoulder,

through the forest bending

while the Earth felt our ascending.

Until that day – when violence

entered the world causing

our separation.

Yet some wolves still howl today

lamenting, longing

for their human brothers running.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

As the Wind Moves Over the Hawk’s Shoulder

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A solitary golden feather is lifted as the wind moves over the hawk’s shoulder.

Chipmunks are breathless as the mountains bask in the sunlight.

Yet the hawk spins his head towards a murmuring sound close by. A lone figure, praying in the shadows of the mountain.

Peace is seldom easy, so the hawk kept silent, honoring his descendants.

Weren’t humans descended from birds of prey?

   

Note: Influenced by Native American creation stories.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

In the Softness of the Autumn Sun

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In the softness of the autumn sun, a quiet returns

to our hearts

an in between, a season

of twilight, of dreaming

where we remember gathering, holding onto,

yet a time of resting

to cease from striving,

even blankets wrapping us

in a feeling of safety, letting go

trusting the arms,

trusting the smile

of our lover

and the smell of apples

bringing wholeness

in the twilight.

We drift off again.

Autumn.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies