Within our survival, our wordflow can shift and change,
leaving us with a thin layer of grey,
yet the colors will speak to us….
calling forth that ancient mystery,
of poets pulling down inspiration,
from the sky.
Hope brightens
with the morning sun.
Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies
As if a single strand, or a string of filtered light,
a small piece
pushing away the darkness
could actually save us….
we always look up,
sooner or later don’t we?
We were made to be hopeful…..
I’m sure of it.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Our hearts were never meant to be broken,
over and over again
our love fractured,
and yet spring
is such a beautiful healing,
moving us forward
each year
repairing our spirits.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
This is Beautiful! Please see the original post, translated by Mary Tang.
A poem is a prayer, sent on eagle’s wings
to encourage
and strengthen us.
And our words will lift us
carrying
our spirits, above and beyond.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
They say the sands of time will erase our scars,
but the sweet quiet river is a healing
internal, flowing in the letting go,
and in the knowing
we are loved.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
In the winter, bread baking means three things at our place,
that we are all home together, the festival of lights is near,
and that there is joy in celebrating,
the gift of light.
Poetry © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
image unknown artist via google
We can see our breath now My Love, especially down by the lake,
and sometimes, when we close our eyes, I can see the fog
drifting quietly over the water, as if there is a voice
and the vacant trees are witnesses
as we take off our gloves
to hold
each other’s hand.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
As racism surges forward, may we all run with the wind
have the courage of lions, fight with the strength we’ve been given
and always use the armor and weapons of love.
There is no victory
without love.
Poetry © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
image credit to original artist/s via google
And our wings were never meant for taking us through the flames and the wreckage,
coated with gold, they were meant to give us courage, but only
if we believe, there are eagles in the mirror.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
