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