The Sky Began Breaking

The sky began breaking as a few persistent snowflakes descended mixed with rain. I carved another arrow, while My Love shifted slightly in her buckskin, placing more wood on the fire crackling.

The horses next to our lodge, snorted their steam, anxious to return to the valley. I knew it would not be long until our band of brothers tracked our food in the snow. Then bows pulled in breathless silence….

I woke up with a start, sitting up realizing it was all just a dream……with the one I love breathing quietly next to me. A picture of beauty and peace.

Yet I could have sworn I heard……the thunder of hoofbeats in the distance…..

Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Note: This is fiction, and poetry.

Winter Vision Quest

It was winter when he left the reservation. No one sought a vision in the winter, but he did, he needed to. Maybe vision wasn’t the right word, but he was searching for cleansing……some type of hope, anything really. Despair and vodka had taken their toll. It was good to be in the mountains again, even with the snow. And he smiled noticing how slow his mule was.

He had everything he needed, the mule, a good rifle, his bow (that he had made years ago from the finest oak), and a small lodge with blankets. He knew he was also carrying grief for his people, the poverty and sickness slowly killing them…. yes a vision is what they all needed.

Days later, with a fire going….. the vision came in the smoke and flames. He saw his people being reborn. It was spring and everything was blooming. The people were strong and happy…. not sick at all.

He knew he must take this vision back to his people, to encourage each one. The end of all things…. was not quite not yet.

They would all live again.

Writing Copyright © 2015, revised 2020 rivers renewed, image from Pinterest, Crow Scout taken 1908

Note: This was not written initially about the virus, but I think it applies today.

Whispers of Lakota Song

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Perhaps it was the Lakota Song drifting over him, whispering in the middle of the night, when he was a child, a sound of singing,

blessing his dreams, from the tall grass…..that soul filling call, to touch the clouds, whispering in his ear, in his heart, the core of who he was.

He could always write the river, so maybe that’s why he was born loving the colors of our earth, with prayer feathers,

and wild horses running strong. It was poetry, after all.

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: I was born in the desert, not far from the Rocky Mountains.

We were too far south though, to hear the Lakota Song.

How it All Began

20190427_101241He was just 17 when he first started searching for his spirit, deep in the cool darkness of the woods.

With light streaming occasionally, he always found the shadows of wings in the stillness,

not quite a ghost. And water falling through rocks brought calm, balm for his soul,

until a crow bursted with noise, offended by his presence. He could sit for hours on the large rock,

by the rope swing, especially in winter listening to the silence of the snowfall….

that’s really how it all began. Soon he would study the tribes, including the Lakota and Cheyenne.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Messenger in the Woods

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I was in prayer, walking deep into the woods that day, when I caught a glimpse of light out of the corner of my eye.

I stopped and noticed a shape fading in and out, a man dressed in the clothing of the First People.

Sea shells and talons hung dangling from his shoulders. Two feathers were tucked in his head,

tilted a certain way, which told me he was both a warrior and a messenger.

Was that a bird in his hands? When he raised his hands a set of wings was released, as he chanted blessings to the sky.

A strong wind began blowing through my hair, when I knew a strong peace had filled me, from the most ancient of times.

He was gone in a peel of thunder…..and I knew the Creator had spoken,

in a way

I could understand.

      

Writing and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

You and I on the Ridgetop

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On the ridgetop you and I could see why prophets weep over the valley,

and the strength of rivers reaching

into and beyond the dry bones.

Even today the tribes still seek

the safety of stone

a sacred space

to keep all their prayers.

You cried a little

when you finally saw it.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Earth Would Bring Healing

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She squinted through the snowfall, her determination burning once again, in spite of the howling wind.

She had followed the wings of the hawk, and now….was that a cave? They had been led here for sure….”C’mon my love!” she yelled to him, who struggled with each step.

He had saved her so many times, now it was her turn. They knew this was not the time for dying.

Once they collapsed inside the cave, they found it warm and safe. They had survived the ruination, the last of all wars, led by the spirit hawk, surely it was a sign.

The Earth would bring healing. There would be a spring, and hope…..was about to be born.

From the Apocalyptic Journal.

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

He Was Canyons of Rivers Raging

apache-dancer-harley-upton-jr-diego-james-robles-from-indiancountrytodaymedianetworkIn 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

The Survivors – Part II

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“You mean you built this place by yourself?” he asked, then realized it was a stupid question. Brie looked at him with steel in her narrowed eyes. But then the baby (a girl) at her breast adjusted herself and Brie softened immediately.

He was always amazed at how children changed women, adding a softness deep within. And the beauty of their bonding……well it was beyond words. He was convinced, it went beyond the deep exhaustion, and squarely into the realm of the supernatural.

Still covered in sweat, her blond hair somewhat matted, Brie cleared her throat and began, “Well I learned lodge building from the Mandan, I grew up in a town within their territory.” “Normally they don’t share the skills and ceremonies with outsiders….but they knew me, and then the wars started and the diseases..…..”

It had only been a couple of hours after the birth, but Brie needed to sleep. She handed the baby to him, which was surprising because she still had the large hunting knife next to her. She trusted him enough though, to hold the little one.

“What shall we name you little one?” he asked the baby not expecting a response. Brie had insisted he name the child, because he had removed the cord from around the child’s neck during childbirth. “You saved her life…..so you name her….”

He thought of Cheyanne but that name seemed too common among the survivors. “How about “Lakota”? It seemed to fit somehow. Brie stirred when she heard the name. With one eye open she said, “Lakota is the perfect name…..our…… Lakota…..” “Ours??” he asked out loud.

Narrator: And so begins the story, of how the Northern Peoples began again. A new hope was born. It was all part of the healing of the Earth, and her people.

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies