poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
And the sins of the fathers are being visited on us their children,
while the Earth continues to be ripped and torn,
I can’t help but think of the people lost,
swept away by storms,
from the changes in our air,
as dark clouds still gather
while ignorant bullies hide
their head in the sand,
lacking even a speck
of empathy.
How many more people
will be lost?
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
In the dance for his people, feet pounding twirling, left shoulder down, feathers jerking, he was the heartbeat of the earth,
head tilted to the left then the right, leaning in, spinning with blurred vision
he became red rocks, he became canyons of rivers raging, with ancient memories,
with power in his feathers, he remembered when they protected
the women and children, from dog faced soldiers hiding spears,
until the sun broke through the great trouble.
He was more than the dance,
he had blended
with the spirit of his people.
Poetry © Copyright 2019, ancient skies, image of Apache dancer from indiancountrytodaymedianetwork
Within the deep fog of the final days, ghosts will reappear with the smell of buckskin
and burning wood in the air, showing us how to make lodges, and the sacred art
of bow making, giving us the wisdom of medicine, and the harmony
of all things will flow in our veins once again,
so that the deep fog will no longer
need to hide us, anymore.
Note: This is part of the Apocalyptic Journal.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Note: This is about a Bird of Prey hunting and may disturb some people.
His wings burned as he turned, into the sky fire apocalypse
but it was the only way to make it, to the lake
he dove head down, down with wings enfolded
a bullet from the heavens
until crashing, breaking
the surface of the water, talons extended
he was all talons flailing
until he caught it
the last fish on planet Earth.
As he slowly flapped now
to his favorite rock,
he did pray for God
to do a miracle, to create
a new Earth once again,
as he devoured fish flesh
for the last time.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
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
Purple dawn then golden yellow
burning the blue
from the trees
as the Earth rises
releasing birdsong
from the forest,
into our hearts
and our day.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
The Earth will sense our hope renewed,
supporting our steps
as we walk
towards peace.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
