And when I breathed in that storm I stood my ground
refusing to yield, refusing
the violence of it,
holding onto
my peace
determined to not let go,
until
I could move forward again.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2022 rivers renewed
From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 Years from Now
He smelled wood burning but it was the tug on his chest that woke him up. Someone or something was pulling on his left bicep. And for some reason he couldn’t open his eyes.
“Hold still!” A woman’s voice pushed him back down again when he tried to sit up. He forced one eye partially open, “Stitches?” he asked. She must have pulled him away from the wolves, and she was stitching him up. He passed out again from the pain.
When he awoke, he was inside the earth……wait no……he was in an earthen lodge. The wind outside told him they were in the middle of a tenacious storm. She offered him a bowl of something warm. All she said was, “Drink.” He did, and it was smooth warmth going down. He tasted honey, ginger and lemon. Lemon? Where did she find a lemon?
She looked at him with a knife in her hands. waving it at him “I know you’re immune from the last disease, otherwise you wouldn’t be here….my name is Brie, and I think we should help each other…..but if you ever hurt me……you will be a dead man.” She meant it and he knew it. He tried to say he would never do such a thing…but he couldn’t speak it.
Her face was beautiful and round, but she had one scar on her right cheek. A knife fight? She had long black hair, and he realized she was from one of the tribes. She had the smell of buckskin and lavender.
“The drink will help you sleep……I’ll need your help in a few days, delivering.” It was only then he noticed she was very pregnant. He fell into a deep sleep……thinking that she was attractive, but he was worried about the knife……. at least he did know how a child is born……
Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed
The wordflow began that day as the sky broke open and the lightning descended. To be honest I was half expecting Lakota to be spoken on the wind, or maybe language from one of the other tribes.
Green leaves shimmered on tree branches waving in the storm, and I knew there would be no angels this time. Only fragments of sentences, an idea floating here or there, I knew I must write.
Wordflow storms are like that sometimes, elusive, yet beautiful, and terrible all at the same time.
And in our brokenness sometimes the beautiful,
is no longer hidden.
Poetry and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed
Note: This is fiction….sort of.
On that day, answers remained without their questions defined,
so I ascended into the sky, seeking the peace
that surpasses all understanding,
it was my spirit that knew,
more than my mind,
it was always my spirit…..
so I ignored the early
and the latter storms
until my wholeness was completed….
it wasn’t easy though,
is it ever really easy?
Poetry an Image Copyright © 2020 ancient skies
As I looked up the wind had ceased, yet the heavens roared,
until the storm clouds had been defeated,
so too our spirits battle
for peace in a frightened
and fractured world.
A gentle rain will return,
as the sun once again
declares the victory,
with a peaceful flow
streaming
across the sky.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
The solar wind continued to pound and rattle the triple pane glass. Inside there was chaos as people raced in every direction, watching the sky shift and break up, feeling the weight of the wind pressing in on them.
The two of them continued their meal quietly, and she stabbed another piece of broccoli. This time there was more anger in her voice, looking me square in the eyes she said,
“You realize of course the last shuttle leaves in seven minutes……(looking at the clock on the wall) actually six minutes and fifty seconds now?” “And the nuclear wave in ten?”
I nodded silently. And yet I hesitated…….we had only met each other, 15 minutes ago…..
to be continued tomorrow.
Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Note: This is fiction.
A storm rolled through the valley today,
as I listened, to the thunder speaking
I was grateful
for the peace yet remaining
in the mountains.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
I turn towards the light, spinning some words, singing a phrase
expecting the revelation, instead water falls on me
but I am cleansed mostly
fig leaves never hiding me
or the words I’ve been carrying for so long,
waiting to write. So I begin again….
We all have a story.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Torrential rains in a downpour
as the wind roars, ripping
through trees,
while dark clouds
cover the mountains,
making them invisible.
And I wonder – does God make storms so we can rest and do some writing?
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Have you ever been in a car accident? Or had your house on fire, or needed an ambulance? Or been caught in a blizzard?
This is a thank you to all of the emergency personnel that help us in our greatest times of need – thank you!
You are some of the most amazing people! You are the greatest of all heroes!
Writing © Copyright 2019, ancient skies, video from youtube