I Saw Smoke in the Valley

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I was in one of my mountains, blending

so beautifully with the One,

a deep forest leading to the ridge,

but I saw smoke in the valley, and the sun

turning blood red

I prayed and I knew I could not stay,

at first I heard nothing

but the wind.

And then I heard that still small voice

saying, “Go my son,

you have brothers and sisters there –

still in the fight.”

   

Standing in the fight against hate.

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

Three Brave Souls

Visions now of boot polish smeared,

a fast brush on leather,

ehoes of shouting, boots running, cascading down our streets,

stomping our bricks,

pounding our sanity, meanwhile

three brave souls in Virginia have perished

history haunting us, taking revenge

but may the gentle spirits – rest in peace.

I don’t really have a helmet, but I can sure make us some signs

for next time.

   

Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies