Where the Healing Speaks


When my spirit is burnt by careless humans, I take what’s left

to the side of the mountain, preferring

the shadows of ancient prophets,

and the adventure

of words divine.

Where the healing speaks

to all of me

in the forest, be whole

my child,

and my heart flows

with restoration.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies


When I Am a Hawk


You can still see the wind move through my feathers,

wings outstretched, holding

some dried blood now

but I can still bank to the left,

then right,

moving through the heart of the mountains,

and even in the dark clouds

I focus more on the river,

always the river,

so I can see again, going beyond,

what we know 

the ruins

of our world.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies