poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
As the winter storm roared through the trees, thunder rumbled rolling
through the valley, having been sent down the side of the mountain,
and I realized our spirits are so fragile, we often sense
the loneliness of the wind, with snowflakes swirling,
and yet inside our cocoons, we acknowledge the safety
and that God was never angry, even though
He probably does live in the wind
coming down
from the mountains.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
When snowflakes start us dreaming,
with a softness descending
there is usually peace enfolding
before the end
of the storm.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
As the wind drives ripples over the top of the lake
I feel my shoulders relax,
and cold air fills my lungs.
And the ease of letting the day go
surprises me as I meditate now
on my spirit taking off
reaching up,
into the clouds.
I am free and freer still.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
A long time ago, when wolves were still the Elders of The People, there were journeys often taken by humans into the deep forest, in order to seek their advice.
As the young man named Two Wolves, spoke with the Elders he was amazed that they seemed to know everything about him, and that they genuinely cared about even the smallest details.
One Elder, a she wolf said, “It is good and right, for you to be in love with Songbird, never be ashamed of this”. The Creator cared about his love life? Tears came to the young man’s eyes, and they talked for some time.
It was dark and cold by the time the Elders asked to talk to Standing on the Mountain.
They spoke to him as the leader he was. Standing on the Mountain was not a proud, haughty leader.
He was humble, and wise. The Elders complimented him and told him to continue to be the man the people needed as their spiritual leader. “Be the counselor, be the one the people turn to……”
And they asked him to please help Sky – the new healer of the people. “The Creator flows through her, in a powerful way”……
Writing and Image © Copyright 2015, 2018, ancient skies
Note: You can find similar stories entitled, Two Wolves, or the White Wolves, by searching the menu.
As I reflect more on Christmas, I know I should focus on the light
seeing the joy, the giving, but I’m still waiting for the spirit
of Christmas, to speak to me –
to create the word flow
and for peace to reign,
in all our hearts.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2015, 2018, ancient skies
He didn’t feel much like an angel. He hadn’t really lived right when he was alive, and didn’t turn things around for the better, until the end. But something did happen to him before the lights went out, and he started caring about people, started doing some real good in the world.
Then there was the car accident, and now here he was an angel, complete with wings (which he always kept hidden), assigned to the Christmas detail, which was always the toughest assignment.
Originally from Vietnam, Henry Vu had just saved several people from a raging blizzard, and was assigned next, to help Caroline Jenkins and her two daughters, aged 6 and 8 years old. Sgt. Tom Jenkins had just been killed about one month ago, fighting the Taliban, in Afghanistan. His family was devastated. Jessica, who at just 8 years old, was talking of suicide, and 6 year old Jasmine, was in complete despair that she would never see her Daddy again.
Caroline had taken up drinking, which she had never done before, and she was filled with hate now for all people from the Middle East, no matter who they were. Henry Vu sighed heavily as he headed their way. He had seen the whole thing on video sent from the Angel Command Center.
Rather than burst into their living room, as a living light, Henry decided to use some carolers from a local church. Two van loads of people from a church were driving through the area. Henry popped into their van unseen. Sitting invisible next to the driver, Henry whispered into her ear, “Dakota Avenue, we need to go down Dakota Avenue.”
Sure enough it worked! “We need to go down Dakota Avenue”, the driver said. As they pulled up and unloaded, the first house they came to was the Jenkins house. “Let’s sing Silent Night!”, someone said. 19 year old Luke ran up the steps to ring the doorbell, and the group started singing, “Silent Night, Holy night…..”
Inside Caroline was startled, but headed for the door, Jessica and Jasmine ran, yelling, “Who is it Mommy??” Caroline didn’t know who it was, but popped a mint in her mouth to cover the smell of alcohol.
As she opened the door, the music pierced Caroline’s heart with both pain and joy. It was her husband Tom’s favorite Christmas carol. Tears began streaming down her face, Jessica said, “Mommy?” By the middle of the song Caroline broke down, not able to contain the grief any longer. She fell to her knees, weeping loudly.
Henry Vu watched from a rooftop across the street, realizing it was not over yet. The carolers stopped, but as they all prayed quietly, one of their group rushed to Caroline’s side….
To be continued.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2015, 2018, ancient skies
We often live within the memory of the oceans, don’t we?
with every silent dream,
all our whispered prayers
as the water draws us
even farther along
allowing our spirits to stretch out
over the sparkling water
under the expanse
sending light deep within
who we always were,
yet with a new revelation.
Sea water.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
