Regardless

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Having been a man of the spirit, he was surprised at the size of the wound. Clutching, his side, he barely made it to a large rock, where he collapsed.

He realized now, forgiveness was more than a tasty flavor, to make life beautiful again. It really was – a process of healing. He picked himself up, aiming for the top of the ridge……but it seemed impossible. He stumbled…..

He would pray, regardless of how he felt, regardless of how his faith would change. But first he needed the safety of trees, the protection of bark. The age of angels seemed to be over now.

The earth had been given as a gift, a starting place….. he needed to feel safe again…..in order to begin.

   

Note: I am fine, but healing is a process.

 Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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Her Future Glory

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It was a small flame, on a single tree leaning, as if she had been hiding

high in the mountains, on a cool crisp morning,

revealing only a part

of her future glory.

I smiled remembering her fire,

of yellow, gold, and red, so I breathed in

the leaves knowing

we would all be embraced soon,

by the brilliant fire

of autumn.

   

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

Walking with the Shadows

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A twig snaps under my foot, as I stop in mid-stride

a crow drops noisily on a large branch,

bouncing, looking, inspecting

my progress, while I let my foot down

gently. I stand remembering

the First People,

Crow, they were called

and that chief,

named Standing Bear. Shadows

moving through the trees,

leaving only feathers –

the crow hides quietly

this time on a taller branch,

perhaps there was a ghost

brushing

against the ferns.

I start walking again, silently

with shadows blending.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies